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JOSEPH  P£NNEJLJL 
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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 


Mrs.    John  S.   Graham 


WILLIAM    PENN,    "  THE   QUAKER    SOLDIER. 

Prom  Line  Engraving  by  S.  A.  Schnff,  in  possession  of  The  Historical 
Society  of  Pennsylvania. 


Quaint  Corners 
In  Philadelphia 


WITH  ONE  HUNDRED  AND 
SEVENTY-FOUR  ILLUSTRA- 
TIONS. By  JOSEPH  PENNELL 
AND  OTHERS    .^     ^     ^     ^ 


REVISED  EDITION 


JOHN   WANAMAKER 

PHILADELPHIA  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1922,  John  Wanamaker 


Architecture 
GIFT 


PREFACE  TO  THE  NEW  EDITION. 


Although  this  book  was  first  issued  in  1883,  it  con- 
tains so  much  in  it  that  is  neither  transitory  nor  ephemeral 
that  it  was  thought  wise  to  send  it  to  the  press  again, 
since  it  has  been  out  of  print  for  some  years  and  a  con- 
tinuing demand  seemed  to  warrant  such  a  move. 

It  is  natural  that  such  a  volume  should  in  parts  bear 
the  signs  of  age,  and  of  containing  statements  no  longer 
true,  for  Philadelphia,  along  with  the  rest  of  the  country, 
has  made  immense  strides  during  the  last  forty  years. 
Among  other  things  it  has  doubled  its  population  and 
very  nearly  doubled  the  number  of  its  buildings.  But  it 
has  been  believed  best  to  allow  the  different  chapters  to 
remain  as  they  were  originally  wTitten,  but  to  supplement 
them  \\ith  a  few  words  in  this  Preface.  One  of  the 
original  chapters  has  been  displaced  by  another  that  out- 
lines the  development  in  the  neighborhood  of  City  Hall 
Square,  a  locality  that  had  only  begim  to  be  a  center  of 
interest  in  1883. 

Originally  written  for  one  of  the  best  weekly  magazines 
ever  issued  in  the  United  States,  Oxir  Continent,  the 
various  chapters  were  ^\Titten  by  writers  who  not  only 
knew  their  Philadelphia,  but  had  a  deep  sjTnpathy  wnth 
their  subject.  They  appeared  in  the  pages  of  that  pub- 
lication during  1882  and  1883.     At  the  close  of  the  series 

V 

255 


vi  PREFACE. 


they  were  collected  and  issued  in  the  form  in  which  they 
now  appear  under  the  title,  A  Sylvan  City;  or,  Quaint 
Corners  in  Philadelphia. 

It  was  a  lively,  entertaining,  informative  book,  and 
gave  an  excellent  idea  of  Philadelphia,  its  history,  its 
institutions,  and  its  own  peculiar  viewpoint,  as  they  then 
existed.  Moreover,  the  narratives  were  charmingly  illus- 
trated by  some  of  Pliiladelphia's  most  attractive  young 
illustrators,  among  them  Joseph  Pennell,  who  was  then 
at  the  entrance  of  his  great  career. 

But,  it  would  not  be  the  part  of  wisdom  to  reissue  the 
volume  without  making  any  reference  to  the  changed 
conditions,  or  to  the  wonderful  change  in  statistics  that 
have  taken  place  in  the  meantime.  The  Historical  Society 
of  Pennsylvania  has  long  since  left  its  cosy,  if  contracted, 
quarters  in  a  small  building  on  the  lot  of  the  Pennsylvania 
Hospital  on  Spruce  Street,  and  now  commands  the  finest 
modern  building  for  a  historical  society  that  can  be  found 
anywhere,  at  Thirteenth  and  Locust  Streets. 

The  Hahnemann  Medical  College  was  displaced  from  its 
home  on  Filbert  Street  by  the  Reading  Railway  when  the 
road  was  brought  down  to  Market  Street  to  a  magnificent 
terminal.  The  Post  Office,  described  as  new  and  wonder- 
ful in  1883,  has  long  ago  outgrown  its  quarters,  and  the 
whole  method  of  distributing  the  city  mails  has  been 
changed.  Motor  trucks  carry  it  from  and  to  railway  sta- 
tions and  from  and  to  the  fifty  branches  in  the  city. 

There  have  been  changes  in  Education,  both  in  Medical 
and  in  the  elementary  public  Schools,  to  say  nothing  of 


PREFACE.  vu 


the  reorganization  of  Catholic  Parochial  Schools  and 
Business  Colleges  that  place  Philadelphia  at  the  head  in 
educational  affairs.  The  Public  Schools  have  an  attend- 
ance of  about  245,000  pupils,  and  these  are  taught  by  about 
6500  teachers. 

At  least  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  school  buildings  have  been 
erected  within  the  last  forty  years,  and  now  pupils  are 
taught  in  the  most  modern  of  school  structures,  and  plans 
are  drawn  for  many  more;  some  of  them  will  be  under  way 
before  this  can  be  published.  There  is  one  Normal  School, 
three  Schools  of  Observation  and  Practice  as  adjuncts  to 
it;  eleven  High  Schools,  where  there  were  only  two  in  1883; 
four  Junior  High  Schools,  with  another  about  to  be 
built;  one  Industrial  School,  one  Trades  School,  and  196 
Elementary  Schools.  The  Evening  Schools  maintained 
by  the  local  Board  of  Education  include  21  Elementary 
Schools,  Eight  High  Schools,  and  One  Trades  School. 
Not  only  has  popular  instruction  gone  so  far  in  the  ele- 
mentary training  of  the  young,  but  more  than  250  scholar- 
sliips  to  universities  and  other  higher  schools  of  learning 
are  each  year  provided  for  industrious  and  intelligent 
pupils. 

In  1883  Philadelphia  had  one  university.  It  now  has 
two,  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  and  Temple  Uni- 
versity. Together  they  have  enrolled  on  an  average  of 
15,000  students.  In  Medical  Education  Philadelphia  has 
never  lost  its  leadership  in  this  country.  A  few  years  ago 
the  standard  of  admission  to  them  was  raised  to  an  extent 
that  may  have  caused  a  loss  in  mere  numbers,  but  has  so 


viii  PREFACE. 


far  resulted  in  the  graduation  of  young  men  and  women 
better  fitted  for  their  new  profession.  There  are  two  Den- 
tal Schools,  one  a  part  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania 
and  the  other  of  Temple  University.  In  addition,  there  is 
the  Thomas  Evans  Dental  Institute,  a  part  of  the  former 
seat  of  learning,  which  has  a  fine  graduate  school  of 
dentistry.  The  Medical  Schools  are  five  in  number,  and 
include  that  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  the  oldest 
in  the  United  States,  Temple  University,  Jefferson, 
Womans,  and  the  Hahnemann. 

The  chapter  on  Libraries  is  another  one  that  could  not 
go  forth  without  having  a  word  said  in  explanation  of  the 
immense  strides  made  by  this  city,  especially  in  the  line 
of  extension  of  its  great  Free  Library  system,  the  largest 
of  its  kind  in  the  world,  and  having  a  circulation  greater 
than  that  of  any  other  library  in  the  United  States,  if, 
indeed,  one  might  not  go  a  little  farther,  and  include  the 
world  in  this  statement. 

It  was  founded  by  a  bequest  of  George  S.  Pepper,  who 
in  1889  left  the  sum  of  $250,000  as  a  nucleus  for  the  pur- 
pose. City  Councils  have  annually  since  1891  appropriated 
money  for  its  continuation  and  expansion.  The  late 
Andrew  Carnegie  gave  $1,500,000  for  the  erection  of 
branch  libraries,  and  twenty-two  such  branches  have 
been  erected  and  are  in  operation.  There  are  eight  other 
branches,  one  of  them  the  E.  Josephine  Widener  Branch, 
at  Broad  Street  and  Girard  Avenue,  and  in  1923  it  is 
expected  to  have  finished  the  great  Central  Library  of  the 
system  on  the  Parkway  at  Nineteenth  Street,  which  the 


PREFACE.  ix 


City  of  Philadelphia  is  erecting.  The  library  has  more 
than  550,000  volumes  and  about  300,000  pamphlets.  It 
has  a  valued  and  instructive  Department  for  the  Blind 
which  has  been  of  great  use,  and  was  one  of  the  first 
activities  of  its  kind  to  be  organized  on  an  extensive  scale 
in  this  country.  The  average  circulation  of  volumes  of  the 
whole  Free  Library  System  is  more  than  3,000,000  volumes 
annually.  The  new  Central  Library  will  have  shelf  room 
for  1,500,000  volumes. 

Many  of  the  Quaint  Corners  in  Philadelphia  have 
given  way  to  the  inevitable  during  the  last  forty  years, 
but  their  history  remains  the  same,  and  those  who  love 
their  Philadelphia  and  those  who  know  and  knew  it  the 
volume  should  continue  to  instruct  and  entertain. 

Joseph  Jackson. 


CONTEN'TS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  A  Quaker  Soldier.     Helen  Campbell,     .        .  9 

II.  The  City  of  a  Dream.     Helen  Campbell,        .  43 

III.  "Caspipina":    The  Story  of  a  Mother 

Church.     Louise  Stockton,         ...  75 

IV.  Old  Saint  Joseph's.     Elizabeth  Robins,          .  109 
V.  The   Old   Philadelphia   Library.      Louise 

Stockton, 129 

VI.  Quaker  and  Tory.     Helen  Campbell,      .        .  167 

VII.  The    Philadelphia    Post-Office.       Edwin 

A.  Barber, 207 

VIII.  City  Hall  Square.     Joseph  Jackson    .     .  229 
IX.  Public  Schools.     Eliza  S.  T'urmr,         .        .  257 

X.  A  Master  Builder.     Helen  Campbell,     .        .  295 

XI.  Early  Abolitionists.     Helen  Campbell,         .  333 

XII.  Medical  Education.     Helen  Campbell,  .        .  367 

XIIT.  The  Bettering-House  and  Other  Chari- 
ties.    Louise  Stockton,        ....  397 

XIV.  The  Right  to  Bear  Arms.      Frank  Willing 

Leach, 437 

XV.  Stephen  Girard  ;  .Mariner  and  Merchant. 

Louise  Stockton,  ......  472 

si 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Fi'om  Designs  by  Joseph  Pennell,  Alice  Barber,  Charles  H. 

Stephens,  Colin  C.  Cooper,  Jr.,  Walter  31.  Dunk, 

Mary  K.  Trotter  and  others. 


PAGE 

Portrait  of  William  Penn,  .  .  Frojitispieee. 
Chigwell  Grammar  School,  .  .  .  .11 
Interior  of  Chigwell  Grammar  School,  .     15 

Wanstead  in  Essex, 17 

Swarthmoor  ^Ieeting  House,     .        .        .        .23 

Swarthmoor  Hall, 29 

Newgate  Prison, 33 

Penn  Coat-of-Arms, 37 

William  Penn's  Burial  Place,  .        .        .45 

Weather  Vane  from  Penn's  Grist  Mill,  .  49 
Gloria  Dei  (Old  Swedes')  Church,  .        .        .     51 

Seal  of  Penn's  Colony, 55 

Penn's  House  in  Letitia  Street,  .  .  .59 
Slate-Roof  House^Original  Appearance,     .    63 

Slate-Roof  House  in  1868, 67 

The  South  Room— Slate-Roof  House,       .        .     71 

St.  Peter's  Gate, 75 

St.  Peter's  Church, 77 

In  St.  Peter's  Churchyard,        .        .        .        .83 

The  Font 87 

Among  the  Bells, 91 

The  Pulpit, 95 

Christ  Church  from  the  East,  .        .        .99 

Bishop  White's  Study, 103 

xiii 


XIV 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Old  Tombstone  (Tailpiece),     . 
An  Old  Confessional, 
Gateway  (Old  St.  Joseph's),     . 
Old  Lamp — St.  Joseph's,    . 
Doorway  of  the  Fatheks'  House, 
St,  Mary's  Churchyard,    . 
Among  the  Graves — Holy  Trinity 
Evangeline's  Grave,  . 
Clock  at  St.  Joseph's  (Tailpiece), 
Minerva  in  the  Library,  . 
The  Old  Library, 
The  New  Library, 

A  Corner, 

The  Old  Lantern, 

Venus — From  the  Rush  Collection, 

The  Loganian  Library, 

Request  Box,       .... 

The  Ridgway  Library, 

Rush  Memorials, 

The  Philosophical  Society, 

Franklin  Institute  Library,  , 

Stairway  at  Historical  Society, 

The  Bay- Window, 

The  Old  Bartram  House, 

John  Bartram — His  Bible, 

Tool-House  in  Bartram's  Garden, 

Hamilton  House,  Woodlands  Cemetery, 

On  the  Wissahickon — The  Old  Livezey  Hous 

Garden  Gate  of  the  Livezey  House, 

Morris'  Folly, 

Chew  House,  Germantown, 
"Solitude  " — House  of  John  Penn, 
"Stenton  "—Residence  of  James  Logan, 
"Keramics"  AT  Stenton,  . 
Before  the  Fire — Stenton, 


K, 


PAGE 

108 
109 
111 
113 
115 
119 
123 
125 
128 
129 
130 
131 
133 
135 
137 
139 
141 
143 
147 
151 
155 
159 
163 
169 
172 
173 
177 
180 
181 
183 
187 
191 
195 
197 
199 


ILL  USTRA  TIONS.  xv 

PAGE 

CoURT-HoUSE, 201 

Allegorical  Group— New  Post-Office,         .  206 

The  Old  Bradford  House,         ....  209 
The  3Ierchants'  Exchange,       .         .         .         .213 

The  New  Post-Office, 217 

Letter  Collecting, 219 

The  Letter  Rake — Sorting,      ....  221 

At  the  Railroad  Elevator,      ....  223 

A  Moment  of  Leisure, 224 

Preparing    for    Delivery,   and    Canceling 

Stamps, 225 

Off  for  the  Depot, 227 

Washington  at  the  Head  of  His  Army,         .  235 

Center  Square  Water  Works,       .       .        .  239 

Phil.u)elphia  Boys'  Central  High  School,    .  241 

Site  of  Masonic  Temple,          ....  243 

Penn  Square  in  1871, 245 

Old  Horse  Market  Inn, 248 

Old  Cab  Stand, 250 

Old  Freight  Station, 251 

Grand  Depot  in  1876, 252 

Grant)  Depot  in  1880, 254 

Lunch  Hour  at  the  Boys'  High  School,  .        .  259 

The  Girls'  Normal  School,       ....  263 

Drawing  at  the  Normal  School,     .        .        .  265 

University  of  Pennsylvania,  ....  267 
Fireplace  in  the  Museum— Old  Germantown 

Academy, 269 

Union  School  at  Kingsessing,  ....  273 

Protestant  Episcopal  Academy,      .         .         .  275 

Five  Minutes  Late,    ......  279 

A  Sunny  Corner  in  the  Schoolyard,       .        .  283 

Friends'  Meeting-House, 287 

Old  Germ.\n  School, 291 

A  Primary  Scholar, 294 


xvi  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

297 
303 
307 
311 
315 
319 
325 
329 
335 
341 
345 
351 
355 
359 
363 
Medical  Hall,  University  op  Pennsylvania,  369 


Benjamin  Franklin  (Bas-Relief  ), , 

Franklin's  Printing  Press — London,  1725, 

Franklin's  Electrical  Machine,  . 

Franklin's  Court  Sword, 

Mementoes  from  France, 

Franklin's  Music  Stand, 

Clock  in  the  Library, 

Franklin's  Grave,    . 

W.  H.  FuRNESs,  D.  D.  (Portrait), 

Isaac  T.  Hopper, 

Lewis  Tappan, 

LucRETiA  Mott, 

J.  Miller  M'Kim, 

Mary  Grew, 

Grace  Anna  Lewis, 


University  Hospital,       .... 
Hahnemann  College,       .... 
Clinic  Hall,  Woman's  College,     . 
Within  the  Gate,  Pennsylvania  Hospital, 
The  Old  Friends'  Almshouse, 
Home  for  Incurables,      .... 

The  "U.  B."  Stove, 

Christ  Church  Hospital, 

In  the  Slums, 

Picturesque  Paupers,      .... 
The  Blockley  Almshouse, 

(The  Right  to  Bear  Arms). 
Arms  of  the  Sims  Family,  438  ;  Lloyd-Staiiley,439  ; 
Graeme,  440  ;  Assheton,  441  ;  Dickinson,  442;  Bush- 
rod  Washington,  443  ;  Penn,  444  ;  Logan,  445  ;  Bar- 
tram,  446;  Shippen,  447;  Pemberton,  447;  Janney, 
448  ;  Chew,  448  ;  Lardner,  449  ;  Willing,  449  ;  Mor- 
ris, 449;  Hollinirsworth,  450  ;  Rawle,451;  Williams, 
451;    Norris,    451;    Tilghman,    451;     Powel,    453; 


375 
381 
389 
399 
405 
411 
417 
419 
423 
427 
433 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


XVII 


McCall,453;  Gilpin,  454;  Lenox,  455;  Allison,  456  ; 
Seals  of  the  Five  Earlj-  Governors  (Gordon,  Hamil- 
ton, Morris,  Denny,  John  Penn),  457  ;  Biddle,  459  ; 
Watmough,460;  Boudinot,  460  ;  The  Smyth  Hatch- 
ment at  Christ  Church,  461 ;  Cadwalader,  463  ;  Aber- 
crombie,  463 ;  Vault  Coverin'i:s  at  Christ  Church 
Burial  Ground,  465  ;  The  Peters  Arms,  Belmont  Man- 
sion, 466 ;  Franklin,  467  ;  Penino:ton,  468 ;  Hopkinson, 
469  ;  The  Wallace  Vault  at  St.  Peter's,  470. 
Brass  Knocker,  Girard  Mansion,  . 
Statue  of  Stephen  Girard,  College  Door- 
way,   

A  Corner  op  Girard  College, 

On  the  Stairway, 

In  the  Library, 

Girard's  Birth  Certificate,  . 

Secretary  and  Musical  Clock, 

Stephen  Girard— His  Gig, 

"The  Table  was  set  with  Much  Silver," 

Infinite  Riches  in  a  Little  Room, 

Chairs,  Tables  and  Bric-a-brac  Memorials 

Model  of  the  Montesquieu,   . 

Pierre  Girard's  Cross  of  St.  Louis,      . 


PAQB 


472 

473 

477 
479 
481 
483 
485 
487 
489 
493 
497 
501 
503 


A  QUAKER  SOLDIER. 


"Dec.  29,  1667 — Lord's  Day. — At  night  comes  Mrs. 
Turner  to  see  ns  and  there  among  other  talk,  she  tells  me 
that  Mr.  William  Pen  who  is  lately  come  over  from  Ireland, 
is  a  Quaker  again  or  some  very  melancholy  thing  ;  that  he 
cares  for  no  company  nor  comes  into  any,  which  is  a  plea- 
sant thing  after  his  being  abroad  so  long,  and  his  father 
such  a  hypocritical  rogue  and  at  this  time  an  atheist. ' ' 

A  LITTLE  complicated  in  statement,  but  on  the  whole 
a  fair  representation  of  the  state  of  mind,  not  only  of  the 
good  Mr.  Samuel  Pepys,  but  of  the  entire  class  repre- 
sented by  liim,  toward  a  man  more  perversely  and  con- 
tinuously misunderstood  and  misrepresented  than  any 
other  figure  in  that  time  of  sharply-defined  and  always- 
encroaching  individualities.  And  from  that  day  to  this 
the  popular  impression  has  been  as  thoroughly  in  the 
wrong  as  popular  impressions  are  likely  to  be,  one  side 
of  the  shield  receiving  the  strongest  possible  light,  the 
other  left  always  in  shadow. 

Every  child  recalls  the  tall  figure  standing,  parchment 
in  hand,  under  the  "  treaty  tree,"  surrounded  by  Indians 
in  various  appreciative  attitudes,  and  every  child  is  sure 
that  this  same  tall  figure  in  straight-skirted  coat  and 
small-clothes,  with  broad  -  brimmed  hat,  from  whose 
shadow  he  looked  out  benevolently,  is  the  true  and  only 


10  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

William  Penu.  Till  Macaulay,  this  picture  was  the 
possession  of  all,  starting  always  into  life  as  the  name 
was  heard — the  one  peaceful  and  sunny  point  to  which 
the  eye  turned  in  a  story  made  up  too  often  of  deeper 
shadows  than  one  cares  to  consider. 

Then  came  the  ingeniously-put  charges  in  the  volumes 
of  the  hrilliant  historian,  who  opened  with  a  paragraph 
which  seemed  to  sum  up  all  the  rare  goodness  and  power 
Avith  which  each  reader  had  instinctively  endowed 
"  Penn,  the  Apostle. "  "  Rival  nations  and  hostile  sects 
have  agreed  in  canonizing  him— England  is  proud  of  his 
name.  A  great  commonwealth  beyond  the  Atlantic 
regards  him  Avith  a  reverence  similar  to  that  which  the 
Athenians  felt  for  Theseus  and  the  Romans  for  Quirinus. 
The  respectable  society  of  which  he  was  a  member  hon- 
ors him  as  an  apostle.  By  pious  men  of  other  persua- 
sions he  is  generally  regarded  as  a  bright  pattern  of 
Christian  virtue.  Meanwhile,  admirers  of  a  very  differ- 
ent sort  have  sounded  his  praises.  The  French  philoso- 
phers of  the  eighteenth  century  pardoned  what  they 
regarded  as  his  supei'stitious  fancies,  in  consideration 
of  his  contempt  for  priests  and  of  his  cosmopolitan  be- 
nevolence, impartially  extended  to  all  races  and  all 
creeds.  His  name  has  thus  become,  throughout  all  civ- 
ilized countries,  a  synonym  for  probity  and  philan- 
thropy.    Yet" — 

Here,  with  the  charge  that  he  is  far  more  a  mythical 
than  an  historical  jDersonage,  begins  a  series  of  innuen- 
does rather  than  direct  accusations,  continuing  through 


A  QUAKER  SOLDIER.  13 

the  four  volumes  with  a  steadily-increasing  animus,  and 
leaving  one  in  the  unhappy  state  to  which  much  of  the 
modern  historical  research  reduces  one — entirely  uncer- 
tahi  as  to  what  is  and  Avhat  is  not  tx*ue,  and  disposed  to 
consider  everything  a  myth  to  wliich  faith  has  hitherto 
been  pinned. 

A  sketch  holds  no  room  for  refutation,  but  a  recent 
dispassionate  reviewer  of  Macaulay's  estimates  of  other 
historical  personages  sums  up  in  the  keenest  words  the 
actual  fact  as  to  the  soundness  of  his  judgment : 

"This  faculty  of  conveying  the  greatest  amount  of 
false  effect  with  the  smallest  amount  of  definite  misstate- 
ment appears  to  be  an  unconscious  felicity  in  the  reviewer, 
more  like  genius  than  any  other  faculty  he  possessed,  and 
akin  to  that  subtle  power  of  self-deception  which  makes 
the  heart  of  man  deceitful  above  all  things  and  despe- 
rately wicked." 

That  the  critic  of  the  seventeenth  century  should  fail 
to  comprehend  the  motives  and  purposes  of  a  man  two 
hundred  years  in  advance  of  his  time  is  not  surprising, 
but  the  nineteenth  still  waits  for  a  biography  which  shall 
give  neither  Penn  the  Quaker  nor  Penn  the  politician, 
but  Penn  the  man,  with  a  clear  summary  of  such  forces 
as  worked  to  make  him  precisely  what  he  was.  Hardly 
a  figure  of  that  curious  transition  time  is  better  worth 
study,  but  so  long  as  he  is  persistently  considered  only 
as  Quaker,  and  every  toucl  of  natural  life  suppressed, 
uncertainty  and  misgiving  ai'e  likely  to  wait  upon  all 
judgment. 

While  the  son  is  more  or  less  hid  in  mist,  the  father, 


14  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


Sir  William  Penn,  owns  well  nigh  as  suppressed  an  ex- 
istence as  that  of  the  Iron  Mask.     In  the  story  of  the 
great  sea-captains  of  the   time,  he  stood  in  England 
second  to  no  one  save  Blake  ;  and  in  profound  nautical 
science,  dashing  and  unflinching  bravery,  and  a  power 
of  resource  that  never  failed,  he  Avas  the  worthy  rival 
of  Van  Tromp  and  De  Ruyter.     Even  Cromweh,  who, 
like  most  Roundheads,  had  no  love  for  a  navy  Avhich 
remained  persistently  loyal,  admits  this.     Of  a  family 
called  old  in  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
trained  under  a  father  who  was  for  most  of  his  working 
life  the  captain  of  a  merchantman,  he  knew  every  grade 
of  work  and  learned  how  to  obey  before  he  dreamed  of 
commanding.     He  was  a  captain  before  twenty,  and 
even  then  a  courtly  and  polished  man,  with  bold  and 
noble  face,  a  strongly-built  figure  and  a  marked  taste 
for  good  living.     He  had  married  in  Rotterdam,  just 
after  receiving  his   promotion,   Margaret  Jasper,   the 
daughter  of  a  Dutch  merchant,  and  Pepys  has  a  line 
which,    remembering    his    prejudices,   is  high  praise : 
"Hath  been  heretofore  pretty  handsome  and  is  now 
very  discreet." 

Never  was  a  time  when  discretion  was  more  needed, 
and  the  child  Ijorn  to  the  young  couple  October  14, 1644, 
required  precisely  the  inheritance  he  received — the  ar- 
dent, unflinching  temperament  of  the  sailor  father ;  the 
more  quiet  but  intense  and  faithful  nature  of  a  mother 
whose  love,  both  as  wife  and  mother,  was  a  life-long 
passion.     Over  the  cradle  where  the  baby  lay,  its  large 


A  QUAKER  SOLDIER. 


15 


and  singularly  luminous  blue  eyes  watching  the  glitter 
of  the  sailor's  uniform,  the  father  prophesied  the  career 
that  should  build  up  the  waning  fortunes  of  the  family, 
and  make  this  son  not  only  name,  but  wealth,  friends 
and  place.  No  words  ever  seemed  to  hold  more  truth. 
At  twenty-three,  a  rear-admiral ;  at  twenty-five,  vice- 


INTERIOR    OF   CHIGWELL   GRAMMAR    SCHOOL. 


admiral  in  the  Irish  sea  ;  at  twenty-nine,  vice-admiral 
of  the  Straits — what  honor  might  not  be  expected  before 
even  middle  life  had  been  reached  ? 

In  the  meantime  the  baby  had  grown  into  a  beauti- 
ful and  promising  boy  at  Wanstead,  in  Essex,  where, 


16  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

at  the  Chigwell  Grammar  School,  then  just  founded  by 
the  Archbishop  of  York,  and  still  standing,  ivy  growr 
and  venerable,  he  began  his  march  through  the  Latin 
grammar,  then,  as  now,  the  first  essential  in  a  polite 
English  education.  His  pi'ogress  was  wonderfully  rapid, 
but  even  then  influences  of  which  he  had  no  conscious- 
ness were  shaping  the  future.  The  young  Admiral, 
still  under  thirty,  seems  to  have  lacked  utterly  the  sense 
of  personal  loyalty  to  any  cause,  and,  while  nominally 
faithful  to  the  Protectorate,  was,  in  fact,  watchful  over 
no  interests  but  his  own.  A  keen  observer,  it  was  easy 
for  him  to  see  that,  even  with  Cromwell's  power  at  its 
height,  the  majority  of  the  nation  were  either  secretly 
or  openly  royalist,  and  that  at  his  death  the  Common- 
wealth must  give  place  to  a  monarchy.  A  secret  corre- 
spondence began  with  Charles  Stuart,  then  in  exile, 
which  resulted  in  an  ofter  from  the  Admiral  to  place  the 
entire  fleet  at  his  disposal.  The  offer  came  to  naught, 
for  Charles  had  no  ports  and  no  money  to  pay  sailors, 
and  as  the  fleet  had  ah'eady  been  ordered  on  the  fatal 
West  Indian  expedition,  Cromwell,  who  knew  every  de- 
tail of  the  treachery,  preserved  his  usual  inscrutable 
silence. 

The  attack  on  St.  Domingo  failed  disastrously  and 
through  no  fault  of  the  Admiral's,  who,  to  atone  for 
the  unexpected  reverse,  attacked  the  beautiful  island  of 
Jamaica,  and  with  vei-y  small  expenditure  of  force  or 
life  added  it  to  the  English  possessions.  Enchanted 
with  the  climate  and  natural  features  of  the  island,  he 


A  QUAKER  SOLDIER.  18 

talked  of  it  constantly  on  his  return  home,  and  the  son 
listened  and  questioned  with  an  equal  enthusiasm, 
dreaming  of  the  wonderful  Western  world  by  day  and 
bv  night.  There  was  short  time,  however,  for  the  home 
life.  Cromwell,  for  reasons  quite  inexplicable  then, 
though  now  perfectly  plain,  chose  to  consider  Penn  as 
guilty  as  Venables,  through  whose  weakness  the  as- 
sault on  Ilispaniola  had  failed,  and  they  were  ordered 
to  separate  dungeons  in  the  Tower.  The  eldest  son, 
little  over  ten  years  old  and  passionately  attached  to  his 
father,  was  thrown  into  a  state  of  the  deepest  melan- 
choly, brooding  constantly  over  the  misfortune,  until 
one  day,  when  alone  and  sad,  a  deep  and  sudden  sense 
of  happiness  came  to  his  soul,  and  the  room  seemed 
filled  with  a  soft  and  heavenly  light. 

There  is  no  record  of  the  immediate  effect  of  this 
upon  the  child,  but  matters  very  shortly  mended.  The 
Admiral,  who  pined  in  his  close  dungeon,  made  full 
confession  of  his  faults  in  a  petition  sent  in  to  the 
Council,  and  Cromwell,  who  admired  his  genius,  even 
when  convinced  of  his  want  of  loyalty,  set  him  free  at 
once.  But  his  own  calling  being,  of  course,  not  open 
to  him,  he  fell  back  upon  intrigue  as  a  permanent  one, 
and,  pretending  that  he  had  no  further  interest  in  poli- 
tics, retired  to  the  estates  in  Ireland  which  had  been 
the  reward  of  his  services  to  the  Commonwealth.  A 
private  tutor  from  England  went  with  him,  who  had 
charge  not  only  of  Penn's  education,  but  of  that  of  the 
brother  Richard,  who,  with  a  sister  Margaret  formed 


20  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


the  family.  At  fifteen,  AVilliam  Penn  was  fully  pre- 
pared to  enter  Oxford  ;  a  tall,  slender  lad,  with  a  pas- 
sionate delight  in  every  form  of  field  sport,  and  an  es- 
pecial fondness  for  boating. 

The  death  of  Cromwell  delayed  all  action  for  a  time. 
The  crafty  and  self-seeking  Admiral  realized  that  the 
army  was  still  in  the  ascendant,  and  for  more  than  a 
year  they  lingered  in  Ireland,  until  the  deposition  of 
Eichard  Cromwell  made  decisive  action  possible.  At 
once  he  declared  for  Charles  and  hurried  to  the  Low 
Countries  to  pay  his  court,  where  the  king  was  so 
heartily  glad  to  see  him  that  he  knighted  him  on  the 
spot  and  employed  him  on  some  special  service.  His 
influence  was  at  once  brought  to  bear  upon  the  navy, 
and  with  a  power  that,  at  a  critical  moment,  brought 
Admiral  Lawson  and  his  ships  up  to  the  Tower,  where 
they  called  for  a  free  parliament. 

The  result  of  this  was  finally  the  recall  of  the  Stuarts, 
and  Charles,  who  forgot  obligations  with  an  ease  born 
of  long  practice  as  well  as  constitutional  tendency, 
never  forgot  this.  The  way  to  royal  favor  and  prefer- 
ment lay  open,  and  Sir  William  Penn,  whose  ambition 
was  even  more  for  his  son  than  for  himself,  looked  for- 
ward to  an  even  better  fortune  than  he  had  dreamed. 
Young  AVilliam  was  sent  at  once  to  Oxford  and  matricu- 
lated as  a  gentleman  commoner  within  a  short  period. 
But  it  was  long  enough  for  the  formation  of  friendships 
that  lasted  all  his  life.  Royal  patronage  assured  him  a 
brilliant  position,  but  this  he  must  have  held  in  any 


A  QUAKER  SOLDIER.  21 


case.  His  superiors  took  pride  in  him  as  one  of  the 
hardest  workers  among  students,  and  his  equals  in  his 
skill  and  daring  in  all  manly  sports.  He  gained  what 
was  for  that  time  a  profound  knowledge  of  history  and 
theology,  and  a  very  thorough  one,  not  only  of  Latin 
and  Greek,  but  of  French,  German,  Italian  and  Dutch. 
He  studied  deeply  the  doctrinal  discussions,  the  fruit  of 
Cromwell's  time,  and,  like  many  of  the  young  men  then 
at  Oxford,  was  in  principle  far  more  Puritan  than  Roy- 
alist. The  conflict,  known  to  all  noble  and  generous 
spirits  who  find  convictions  and  existing  forces  in  oppo- 
sition, became  his  then  and  for  many  following  years, 
and  he  dreamed  then  the  dream  of  many,  who,  seeing 
only  "a  reign  of  darkness  and  debauchery,"  looked  to 
the  New  World  as  the  scene  of  an  empire,  where  neither 
bigotry  nor  formaUsm  should  rule,  and  no  obstacles  bar 
the  way  to  the  highest  and  holiest  living. 

Disquieted  and  full  of  revolt,  he  was  attracted  by  the 
preaching  of  Thomas  Loe,  an  obscure  layman,  who  had 
taken  up  the  doctrines  taught  by  George  Fox.  Penn 
had  protested  with  others  against  the  introduction  of 
the  Popish  ritual  at  Oxford,  and  now  went  again  and 
again,  being  absent  so  constantly  from  their  own  ser- 
vices that  the  superiors,  with  that  wisdom  and  perspi- 
cacity which  have  distinguished  superiors  since  the 
world  began,  immediately  arrested  and  fined  them  for 
irregularity.  Open  rebellion  was  naturally  the  imme- 
diate consequence,  and  as  the  result  of  some  reasonable 
but  quite  as  many  unreasonable  and  hot-headed  assaults 


22  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

on  established  custom,  Penn,  after  many  remonstrances, 
was  expelled  from  the  University. 

Probably  no  father  ever  experienced  a  keener  sense  of 
outrage  than  that  felt  by  Sir  William  Penn.     His  son 
might  have  committed  any  form  of  seventeenth-century 
iniquity  and  been  certain  of  pardon.     Gambling,  duel- 
ing, drunkenness  were  all  hardly  offenses  ;  were,  on  the 
whole,  the  effervescence  of  youthful  spirits,  as  well  as 
the  chosen  pursuits  of  the  time.     But  non-conformity 
was  a  base  and  low-born  tendency,  and  added  to  this 
was  a  sense  of  some  deeper  evil  to  come.     The  jovial 
Admiral  went  with  clouded  brow,  and  when  the  news 
of  the  expulsion  came  the  disgrace  hurt  him  to  the  core, 
Pepys  records  the  misery  into  which  the  family  were 
plunged  and  the  consternation  among  the  family  friends. 
It  was  impossible  to  keep  up  the  quarrel  with  this  fa- 
vorite  son,  who   seemed  "  in  a  low  and   sad  state  of 
mind,"  utterly  unnatural  at  eighteen,  and,  after  long 
deliberation,  he  took  what  bade  fair  to  be  the  Avise  and 
effectual  course.     A  party  of  college  friends  were  about 
to  begin  the  grand  tour.     The  Admiral  proposed  that 
his  son  should  Join  them,  and  Penn  accepted  with  de- 
light.    The  reaction  had  come,  and  once  presented  at 
the  brilliant  court  of  Louis  Quatorze,  Penn  forgot  his 
scruples,  and,  while  never  going  to  the  lengths  common 
at  the  time,  still  lived  a  gay  and  joyful  life,  the  life  not 
of  Quaker  but  of  Cavalier.     The  Admiral  rubbed  his 
hands  over  the  success  of  the  experiment,  determining 
that  his  son's  education  should  be  finished  in  France, 


S^KS^IW 


-3 

a 
3 
o 
o 
» 

S 

M 
H 


A  QUAKER  SOLDIER.  25 


and  that  he  should  then  enter  the  army.     Penn  went  to 
Saumur  prepared   in   his   own  mind   for  this  change, 
placed  himself  under  Moses  Amyrault,  and  with  this 
famous  scholar  not  only  read  the  principal  fathers  but 
studied  thoroughly  the  language  and  literature  of  the 
country.     At  the  close  of  this  course  of  study  he  began 
to  travel,  having  again  Joined  Lord  Kobert  Spencer, 
with  whom  he  had  become  intimate  while  living  in  Pai-is, 
at  which  time  also  he  had  met  Lady  Dorothy  Sidney, 
sister  of  Algernon  Sidney.     With  the  brother  a  friend- 
ship now  began  Avhich  lasted  uninterruptedly  through 
all  variations  of  opinion.     Two  years  of   intercourse 
with  the  best  that  France  and  Italy  could  afford  had 
passed  when  Penn  was  suddenly  summoned  home,  partly 
to  attend  to  family  affairs  and  partly  to  secure  his  own 
safety,  as  there  were  rumors  of  possible  war.     He  had 
left  London  a  moody  and  silent  boy.     He  returned  to  it 
so  fine  a  gentleman  that  the  world  first  wondered,  then 
opened  its  arms,  and  Mr.  Pepys  wrote  : 

"Aug.  30,  1664. — Comes  Mr.  Pen  to  visit  me.  I  perceive 
something  of  learning  lie  hath  got ;  but  a  great  deal  if 
not  too  much  of  the  vanity  of  the  French  garb  and  af- 
fected manner  of  speech  and  gait." 

The  Admiral,  who  saw  in  this  brilliant  and  fascina- 
ting son  the  realization  of  every  dream,  wisely  spoke  no 
word  of  the  past,  and  to  insure  his  forgetfulness  of 
old  companions  and  tendencies,  kept  him  steadily  em- 
ploj-ed.  He  entered  as  a  student  at  Lincoln's  Inn,  and 
gained  a  knowledge   of  law  that   served  him  in  good 


26  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


stead  in  many  after  emergencies,  and  apart  from  this, 
he  was   constantly    employed    on  the    King's   or  his 
father's  business.     Then  came  the  crisis  in  the  Dutch 
war,   when  Penn  was  for  some   time  on  his  father's 
staff  and  saw  a  gooddeal  of  sharp  service  at  sea.     "With 
June  came  a  fmal,  decisive  battle,  bringing  to  the  Ad- 
miral the  greatest  rewards  that  his  King  could  heap 
upon  him.     He  was  informed  that  he  would  be  raised 
to   the   peerage   with    the   title   of   Lord  Weymouth, 
in    addition  to  the  Irish  grant  of  land  and   the  com- 
mand  of  Kinsale.     But  in  the  meantime   the  plague 
had  broken  out,   and  the   Admiral,  who  had  left  his 
son  in   London  for  a   time,    returned,  to   find  to  his 
despair  that  the  dark  mood  had  reappeared.   Penn  left 
off  French,  neglected  the  court  and  all  visits,  and  spent 
his  time  with  men  of  serious  and  devout  lives.   Absence 
had  cured  in  the  first  case,  and  the  experiment  might 
succeed  again.      The  court  of  Charles,  dissolute  and 
reckless,  naturally  repelled  men  Avho  cared  for  better 
things,  but  a  minor  court,  that  of  the  Duke  of  Ormonde, 
who  was  practically  vice-king  of  Ireland,  had  all  the 
brilliancy  and  charm,  with  none  of  the  disgusting  fea- 
tures of  the  English  one.    The  Ormondes  Avere  a  family 
of  soldiers,  and  Lord  Arran,  the  second  son,  had  already 
met  William  Penn  and  urged  his  coming  over.     The 
change  was  accomplished  ;  favorable  word  was  sensat 
to  the  effect  of  the  new  surroundings,  and  once  more 
the  Admiral  breathed  freely. 
Nevertheless,  the  turning-point  had  come,  and  his 


A  QUAKER  SOLDIER.  27 

own  action  shut  the  door  on  any  cliance  of  the  future 
he  had  labored  to  make  secure.  An  insurrection  arose 
among  the  soldiers  at  one  of  the  stations.  Penn  volun- 
teered under  his  friend  Lord  Arran,  and  having  won 
general  applause  for  his  bravery  and  coolness,  became 
eager  to  make  arms  his  profession,  and  urged  his  father 
to  accept  the  proposal  made  him  by  the  Duke.  The 
Admiral  refused.  This  son  must  not  be  sacrificed  in 
any  chance  skirmish,  but  must  reserve  himself  for  po- 
litical life  and  the  founding  of  a  family.  Penn  protested 
in  vain,  and  at  last  resigned  himself  unwillingly  to  a 
decision  he  could  not  alter,  and  again  the  Admiral 
chuckled  at  carrying  his  point,  with  small  thought  that 
he  had  really  checkmated  himself  once  for  all. 

As  a  remembrance  of  a  dream  never  quite  forgotten, 
Penn  was  painted  at  this  time  in  full  military  dress — 
the  only  genuine  portrait  in  existence,  and  the  typical 
Quaker,  the  great  apostle  of  peace,  looks  out  upon  us 
to-daj'  armed  and  accoutred  as  a  soldier  !  It  is  a  most 
noble  and  beautiful  face,  with  a  union  of  sweetness  and 
resoluteness  that  made  the  key-note  of  his  life — a  face  in 
which  is  evident  "  the  delicacy  of  the  scholar,  hovering 
as  a  finer  presence  above  the  forceful  audacity  of  the 
man  of  the  world — at  once  bookman,  penman,  swords- 
man, diplomat,  sailor,  courtier,  orator." 

To  the  day  of  his  death  these  traits  remained.  The 
actual  life  of  the  soldier  had  been  denied,  but  warfare 
was  his  portion,  and  he  fought  dauntlessly  against  prin- 
cipalities and  powers  through  all  the  years  that  followed. 


28  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

In  the  meantime  another  Irish  land  grant  had  been 
made  to  the  Admiral,  and  Penn  had  full  occupation  int 
hearing  and  adjusting  the  intricate  cases  resulting  from 
over  twenty  years  of  grants,  confiscations  and  restora- 
tions. The  Admiral  confided  fully  at  last  in  his  son's 
business  capacity  and  left  the  matter  entirely  in  his 
hands,  and  a  year  passed  in  which  only  one  trip  to 
London  was  made.  A  sudden  call  took  Penn  to  Cork, 
and  there  he  heard  that  his  old  Oxford  friend,  Thomas 
Loe,  would  preach.  He  remembered  his  boyish  enthu- 
siasm, and,  led  by  curiosity,  went  to  discover  how  the 
same  thing  would  strike  his  maturer  mind.  The  final 
crisis  had  come,  and  as  he  listened  he  knew  that,  vacil- 
late as  he  hereafter  might  between  filial  duty  and  duty 
to  God,  he  was  in  his  soul  from  that  night  a  Quaker. 

It  is  hard  in  these  days  of  tolerance  and  indifterentism 
to  even  imagine  the  conflict,  inward  and  outward,  that 
followed.  Attending  meetings,  he  was  almost  imme- 
diately arrested,  refused  the  offered  parole,  and  would 
have  taken  trial  with  the  rest  had  not  an  order  come 
for  his  discharge.  The  thunderstruck  Admiral  ordered 
liim  Ijack  to  London,  and  for  a  few  days,  as  no  change 
was  perceptible  in  dress  and  speech,  persuaded  himself 
he  had  been  mistaken.  But  the  issue  came  ;  Penn,  after 
solemn  consideration,  refused  to  uncover  before  father  or 
king,  and  the  furious  Admiral  turned  him  out  of  doors. 

Scoff  as  one  may  at  outward  peculiarities  and  puerili- 
ties, into  this  time  of  anarchy  and  revolution  had  come, 
in  Quakerism,  the  first  intellectual  basis  of  true  demo- 


A  QUAKER  SOLDIER. 


29 


cracy.  To  the  founder  of  this  system,  "philosophies, 
arts,  rehgions,  legislations,  were  as  nothing."  Every 
man  was  complete  in  himself ;  each  human  being,  man 


SWARTHMOOR    HALL. 


or  woman,  by  virtue  of  the  inner  light,  was  supreme. 
Cromwell  had  said  in  the  beginning,  "  Now  I  see  there 
is  a  people  risen  that  I  cannot  w  in,  either  with  gifts, 
honors,  offices  or  place,  but  all  other  sects  and  people 
I  can." 


30  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

To  Penn  the  dream  of  his  youth  seemed  fuKilled.  The 
pontics  of  Quakerism  were  identical  in  spirit  with  the 
visions  of  Algernon  Sidney,  though  in  his  democracy 
only  pride  of  soul  and  heroic  virtue  ruled.  The  Com- 
monwealth had  failed  from  inherent  defects,  but  another 
misht  be  founded  in  which  the  religious  idea  should 
prove  the  missing  link,  the  point  of  miion  between  here- 
tofore opposing  systems. 

There  were  months  in  which  the  thought  grew  and 
matured.  His  recall  home  proved  to  the  bewildered 
and  unhappy  Admiral  that  banishment  had  been  useless. 
Penn  wrote  and  spoke  with  a  daring  which  seemed  the 
Avildest  recklessness,  and  soon,  in  spite  of  friends  at 
court,  found  himself  in  the  Tower.  For  eight  months 
and  sixteen  days  he  submitted  to  a  solitary  dungeon, 
and  during  that  time  in  "No  Cross,  no  Crown,"  added 
another  notable  book  to  the  noble  literature  of  the 
Tower.  Vigorous  pamphlets  followed,  and  their  effect 
was  so  strong  that,  though  by  this  time  the  whole  Penn 
family  were  in  extraordinary  trouble,  an  order  for  his 
release  was  sent. 

The  story  of  the  years  that  followed  is  one  of  perpet- 
ual conflict.  His  brave  bearing  in  prison  had  gained 
over  his  father,  who  hoped  nearly  to  the  end  that  his 
views  would  moderate  sufficiently  to  allow  the  accept- 
ance of  the  peerage.  There  had  been  continuous  trials," 
public  discussions,  short  imprisonments  and  a  general 
commotion,  on  .which  Charles  looked  with  the  smiling 
cynicism  he  had  toward  all  convictions  ;  but  through  U 


A  QUAKER  SOLDIER.  31 


all,  both  he  and  his  brother  retained  affection  for  th6 
elder  and  genuine  regard  for  the  j'ounger  Penn,  and  ac- 
cepted the  guai-dianship  entrusted  to  them  by  the  djing 
Admiral,  who,  in  the  final  days  of  life,  turned  with  a 
clinging  affection  to  this  contumacious  and  disappoint- 
ing Quaker  son,  in  whose  honesty  and  clear-sightedness 
he  had  such  trust,  that  all  his  considerable  property, 
saving  a  life-interest  in  the  estate  for  his  widow,  was 
left  to  him.  From  his  death-bed  the  Admiral  sent  to 
both  the  King  and  the  Duke  of  York,  asking  for  the  son 
a  continuance  of  the  friendship  shown  the  father,  and 
James  became  guardian  and  protector,  a  relation  which 
caused  much  scandal  —  Quaker  subject  and  Catholic 
prince  meeting  together  on  terms  that  were  incompre- 
hensible to  the  more  violent  members  of  the  sect.  But 
the  relation  affected  property  and  not  religion,  and  this 
fact  was  urged  years  afterward  by  Penn  to  the  commit- 
tee of  inquiry  from  Magdalen  College. 

And  now  another  master,  before  whom  the  hat  was 
willingly  doffed,  claimed  a  service  from  which  Penn 
had  hitherto  been  exempt.  At  Chalfont,  in  Buckingham- 
shire, dwelt,  during  the  first  years  of  the  civil  war,  cer- 
tain quiet  friends  whose  names  still  carry  a  meaning 
deeper  than  any  known  to  that  troubled  time.  Side  by 
side  were  John  Milton,  who  had  left  his  London  house 
when  the  plague  began  and  came  to  the  friends  who  shared 
his  convictions  and  delighted  in  his  genius— Thomas 
Ellwood,  the  famous  Isaac  Pennington,  and  Gulielma 
Maria  Springett,  daughter  of  Sir  William   Springett, 


32  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

who  died  at  the  siege  of  Arundel  Castle.  A  true  soldier, 
of  noble  presence  and  a  character  at  once  strong  and 
sweet,  he  had  married  a  woman  of  equal  spirit  and 
beauty,  passionately  devoted  to  him.  There  is  no  more 
pathetic  story  in  the  annals  of  the  civil  war  than  their 
short  love  life  and  tragic  parting,  only  a  few  weeks  be- 
fore the  birth  of  this  daughter,  who  grew  into  a  lovely  and 
dainty  girlhood,  sought  by  many  gallants,  but  protected 
always  by  the  mild  and  gracious  shield  of  her  Quaker 
faith  and  breeding.  Like  Penn,  however.  Lady  Sprin- 
gett  had  known  every  fascination  of  court  life,  and 
Quakerism,  in  both  their  cases,  meant  inward  rather 
than  outward  asceticism. 

Thomas  Ellwood's  memoirs  give  not  only  the  story  of 
his  own  unsuccessful  love,  but  many  details  of  the  life 
at  Chalfont.  Guli  loved  music,  and  music  was  Milton's 
passion,  second  only  in  his  mind  to  poesy.  It  was  to 
these  friends  that  he  first  told  the  secret  of  his  comple- 
tion of  "Paradise  Lost,"  and  it  was  EUwood  who  sug- 
gested to  him  the  theme  of  "Paradise  Regained." 
Pennington  had  become  the  second  husband  of  Lady 
Springett,  and  Penn  on  his  first  visit  to  this  friend  met 
Guli  and  found  his  fate.  They  were  soon  affianced,  but 
her  stepfather  was  then  in  jail  for  opinion's  sake,  much 
of  his  time  being  passed  in  prison,  and  the  whole  period 
of  courtship  was  a  perturbed  and  stormy  one.  Penn 
was  tried  and  imprisoned  for  some  months,  wrote  vari- 
ous pamphlets  and  treatises,  and  on  his  release  went  at 
once  to  Holland,  where  he  had  been  urged  to  go  in  de- 


M:\VGAriC    I'KlSO.N. 


A  QUAKER  SOLDIER.  35 

fense  of  the  many  then  suffering  persecution  there.  For 
them  and  for  the  many  sections  of  the  great  Puritan 
party  in  England,  who  had  fled  to  Holland  at  the  re- 
turn of  the  Stuarts,  America  was  the  daily  talk  and  the 
nightly  dream,  and  Penn,  as  he  journeyed  from  city  to 
city,  seeing  always  the  best  men  of  the  age  exiled  and 
sad  for  conscience's  sake,  felt  once  more  the  longing 
that  had  come  to  hira  at  Oxford,  to  found  a  free  State, 
no  matter  if  in  the  wilderness. 

Seven  months  after  his  Uberation  from  Newgate  he 
returned  from  Holland  ;  reported  in  London  the  results 
of  his  expedition,  and  then  put  aside  every  perplexity 
and  posted  down  to  Bucks.  Here,  while  the  house  he 
had  chosen,  some  six  miles  from  Chalfont,  was  being 
made  ready,  he  enjoyed  the  first  quietness  that  had 
come  to  him  for  years,  and  in  the  early  spring  took  his 
young  bride  home. 

Spring  and  summer  passed,  but  the  honeymoon  gave 
no  signs  of  ending.  Neither  friend  nor  foe  could  draw 
him  from  the  seclusion  he  had  chosen.  He  neither  wrote 
nor  traveled.  The  instinct  of  activity,  always  urging 
him  on,  seemed  laid  to  rest,  and  many  believed  that  he 
had  subsided  into  the  quiet  country  gentleman,  content 
with  a  beautiful  wife,  a  fine  estate  and  the  prospect  of 
a  family.  But  Guli  herself  had  many  of  the  same 
characteristics,  and  when  the  time  was  ripe  and  happy 
rest  had  done  its  needed  work  in  healing  and  strength- 
ening, joined  him  in  the  work  which,  for  three  years, 
they  pursued  together,  though  the  birth  of  the  first  son, 


36  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

Springett,  soon  interfered  with  the  wife's  share  in  pubUc 
work. 

The  memoirs  of  Count  de  Gramraont  and  the  journal 
of  George  Fox  give  the  two  sides  of  this  period,  and  for 
both  toleration  was  unknown.  William  Penn  stood  al- 
most alone  as  a  religious  yet  tolerant  man,  but  the 
Quaker  soldier,  while  claiming  that  no  civil  magistrate 
should  have  power  to  inflict  penalties  for  opinion's  sake, 
used  every  weapon  of  controversy  to  stir  up  and  wound 
the  unbeliever.  But  though  he  had  become  the  sword 
of  the  new  sect,  and  a  sword  never  sheathed,  the  in- 
fluence of  his  comprehensive  and  reasonable  mind  was 
felt  on  both  sides.  With  the  passing  of  the  infamous 
Test  act  he  once  more,  after  five  years'  absence,  re- 
newed intercourse  with  the  court,  and  used  every  power 
of  argument  and  persuasion  to  bring  about  a  reconstruc- 
tion of  methods,  and  James  promised  to  add  all  his  in- 
fluence with  the  King  to  this  end.  The  province  of  New 
Netherlands,  sti'etching  from  the  Delaware  to  the  Con- 
necticut, was  then  the  property  of  the  Duke  of  York, 
and  as  the  only  object  of  owners  was  to  wring  as  much 
money  as  possible  out  of  their  estates,  it  became  their 
interest  to  offer  concessions  and  inducements  to  emigra- 
tion. With  fresh  persecutions  at  home,  the  English 
Quakers  turned  toward  this  province,  where  many  Puri- 
tans had  already  gone,  and  Fox  and  Fenwick  began  a 
negotiation  for  the  purchase  of  a  share  from  Berkely. 
A  fierce  dispute  as  to  Fenwick's  rights  began,  which 
was  finally  referred  to  Penn,  and  soon  the  reconciled 


TUE   PENN    COAT    OF    AKMS. 


A  QUAKER  SOLDIER.  39 

parties  set  sail  for  New  Jersey,  leaving  him  in  charge  of 
their  interests,  other  complications  soon  making  him  the 
responsible  head 

Two  years  of  uitense  activity  followed.  The  New 
Jersey  colony,  for  which  he  had  made  a  constitution, 
prospered  steadil}',  and  he  was  the  agent  for  all  who 
desired  to  join  them.  He  made  a  tour  on  the  Conti- 
nent, preaching  and  writing,  until,  worn  down  with 
over-work,  he  fell  into  "a  low  and  listless  mood,"  and 
suffered  from  intense  depression  which  even  Guli  could 
hardly  remove.  It  passed,  with  a  short  season  of  par- 
tial rest  at  home,  and  then  even  more  engrossing  inte- 
rests arose  from  1678-80.  In  the  centre  of  a  brilliant 
court  he  stands  out  as  one  of  the  most  extraordinary 
figures  of  the  time.  Absolutely  neutral  as  to  the  great 
objects  of  party  strife,  and  wanting  no  honors  that 
court  or  king  could  offer,  he  was  the  intimate  and 
trusted  friend  of  Catholic  and  Protestant  alike.  The 
friendships  of  Penn  are  in  themselves  a  story.  Faith- 
ful, strong  and  tender,  the  man  who  felt  them  needed  a 
catholic  mind  to  comprehend  and  hold  the  varied  na- 
tures that,  having  tested,  never  again  swerved  from 
their  allegiance  to  him.  John  Locke,  man}-  yeai's  older, 
had  discussed  with  him  the  ccmstitution  for  North  Caro- 
lina, its  final  failure  being  in  those  points  where  Penn's 
suggestions  had  been  rejected.  The  Whig  Lord  lius- 
sell,  the  Tory  Lord  Hyde,  the  Republican  Algernon 
Sidney,  all  trusted  and  loved  him,  and,  sought  by  rakes, 
courtiers,  writers  and  members  of  Parliament  alike,  he 


40  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

bent  every  power  of  his  mind  toward  impressing  upon 
them  the  necessity  of  toleration  to  opinion.  Finally, 
after  long  and  patient  waiting,  and  the  constant  urging 
of  his  friends,  the  House  of  Commons  consented  to 
listen  to  the  plea  of  Dissenters,  and  Ponn  made  before 
a  committee  a  speech  such  as  had  never  been  heard 
within  the  walls  of  Westminster  Palace,  a  speech  so 
convincing  that  the  committee  decided  at  once  to 
insert  in  the  bill  then  before  Parliament  a  clause  for 
relief.  Had  it  passed,  Penn  would  have  remained  in 
England,  and  Pennsylvania  continued  only  a  dream. 
The  Titus  Oates  plot,  apparently  ruinous  to  every 
hope,  proved,  in  the  storm  it  aroused,  a  breeze  to 
fill  the  sails  of  every  westward-bound  bark.  Penn, 
who  despaired  of  fireedom  at  home,  turned  more 
eagerly  to  its  possibility  in  the  Xew  World,  and  after 
many  expedients  had  been  discussed  with  Sidney  he 
settled  upon  a  definite  plan  of  action. 

Admiral  Penn  had  left  behind  him  claims  on  the 
government  amounting  to  nearly  fifteen  thousand 
pounds,  a  sum  equivalent  to  nearly  four  times  that 
amount  at  present,  and  his  son  now  sent  in  a  petition 
that  in  lieu  of  any  money  settlement  the  King  would* 
grant  to  him  and  his  heirs  forever  a  tract  of  imoccu- 
pied  crown  land  in  America.  The  location,  described 
at  length,  included  no  less  than  forty-seven  thousand 
square  miles  of  surface — a  little  less  than  the  area  of 
England,  but  Charles  would  not  have  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment had  not  the  Privy  Council  vehemently  opposed 


A  QUAKER  SOLDIER.  41 

the  plan.  With  entire  uncertainty  as  to  the  issue  of 
the  petition,  Peun,  with  twenty-two  others,  purchased 
from  Sir  George  Carteret  a  portion  of  East  New  Jer- 
sey, and  was  actively  engaged  in  planning  for  new 
towns  and  the  establishment  of  a  liberal  government 
when  a  charter  was  at  last  settled  upon  and  sent  in 
to  the  King,  who  at  once  set  his  signature  to  it,  well 
pleased  at  canceling  a  heavy  debt  in  such  easy  fashion. 

New  Wales  was  the  name  fixed  upon  by  Penn  for 
the  new  province,  partly  from  a  remembrance  of  his 
Welsh  ancestry  and  in  part  from  its  mountainous  char- 
acter. A  Welshman  in  the  council  objecting,  Penn 
suggested  S3lvauia,  on  account  of  the  magniflceut  for- 
ests, and  the  King  at  once  prefixed  Penn,  in  honor  of 
the  great  Admiral.  Penn  objected,  appealed,  and  at 
last  offered  twenty  guineas  to  the  Secretary  to  alter 
it,  fearing  that  it  would  bring  discredit  upon  him  if  he 
allowed  the  great  province  to  bear  his  family  name. 
Charles  insisted,  and  the  patent,  drawn  up  in  the  usual 
form,  is  still  in  the  office  of  the  Secretary  of  State  at 
Harrisburg.  To  Penn  the  reception  of  this  charter 
was  the  crowning  event  of  his  life,  and  he  wrote  : 

"God  hath  given  it  to  me  in  the  face  of  the  world.  .  . 
He  will  bless  and  make  it  the  seed  of  a  nation." 

For  months  he  labored  with  Sidney  upon  the  Con- 
stitution. The  rigid  one  drawn  up  by  John  Locke  and 
Shaftsbury  had  failed,  and  Penn  determined  to  simply 
make  an  essentiaJh'  democratic  basis  for  his  form  of 
government,  and  leave  all  ''  minor  details  to  be  filled  in 


42  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

as  time,  events  and  the  public  good  demanded."  The 
rough  dx'aft  in  form,  Sidney  and  himself  deliberated  over 
every  phase,  the  mutual  labor  being  so  intricate  and 
continuous  that  the  exact  share  of  each  will  never  be 
determined.  Completed  at  last,  the  news  quickly  spread 
that  the  great  religious  democrat  of  the  age  had  become 
sole  owner  of  a  mighty  province,  and  from  every  great 
town  in  the  three  kingdoms,  as  Avell  as  from  Holland, 
agents  were  sent  to  confer  as  to  terms  of  emigration  and 
settlement.  The  Royal  Society  made  him  a  member,  in 
order  to  obtain  the  benefit  of  his  scientific  observations, 
and  steady  preparation  for  the  voyage  went  on.  Tlie 
death  of  Lady  Penn,  always  a  fond  and  devoted  mother, 
delayed  everything  for  a  time,  and  Penn's  family  aftairs, 
which  he  arranged  as  if  never  to  be  among  them  again, 
were  long  in  adjusting.  He  clung  to  wife  and  children 
with  a  longing  tenderness,  but  Guli's  courage  was 
stronger  even  than  his  own.  He  doubted  his  return, 
but  she  never  did,  and,  cheered  by  her  faitli  and  carry- 
ing the  good  will  of  every  earnest  heart,  the  Quaker  sol- 
dier went  on  board  the  Welcome  at  Deal,  and  on  the  first 
of  September  weighed  anchor,  and,  pushing  boldly  out 
to  sea,  soon  felt  the  winds  that  bore  him  toward  the 
Sylvan  City,  still  formless,  save  in  its  builder's  mind. 


THE  CITY  OF  A  DREAM. 


There  is  a  certainty  in  the  mind  of  the  average 
reader  that  as  tlie  Pilgrim  Fathers  landed  on  Plymouth 
Kock,  so  Penn  landed  at  Philadelphia,  the  sense  of 
vagueness  encompassing  most  facts  of  early  colonial  life 
being  even  stronger  here  than  in  the  case  of  some  occur- 
rences  actually  less  familiar.  But  the  city  in  1682  was 
still  the  city  of  a  dream,  a  dream  begun  in  youth  and  the 
brooding  days  at  Oxford,  and  now  transferred  from  mind 
to  paper,  the  plan,  drawn  in  part  by  Holme  from  Penn's 
instructions,  being  the  latter's  constant  companion. 
Over  the  spot  where  to  inward  vision,  streets,  squares, 
houses  and  docks  were  plain,  trees  still  waved  and  not 
a  foundation  stone  had  been  laid. 

"  According  to  its  original  design,  Philadelphia  was 
to  have  covered  with  its  houses,  squares  and  gardens 
about  tAvelve  square  miles.  Two  noble  streets — one  of 
them  facing  an  unrivaled  row  of  red  pines — were  to  front 
the  rivers,  a  great  public  thoroughfare  alone  separating 
the  houses  from  their  Ijanks.  These  streets  were  to  be 
connected  by  the  High  Street,  a  magniHcent  avenue  per- 
fectly straight  and  a  luuidred  fi-et  in  width,  to  be 
adoi-ned  with  lines  of  trees  and  gardens  surrounding  the 
dwelling  houses.    At  a  right  angle  with  the  High  Street 

43 


44  A  STL  VAN  CITY. 

and  of  equal  width,  Broad  Street  was  to  cut  the  city  in 
two  from  north  to  south.  It  was  thus  divided  into  four 
sections.  In  the  exact  centre  a  large  public  square  of 
eight  acres  was  set  apart  for  the  comfort  and  recreation 
of  posterity.  Eight  streets  tifty  feet  wide  were  to  be  built 
parallel  to  Broad  Street,  and  twenty  of  the  same  width 
parallel  to  the  rivers.  Penn  encouraged  the  building  of 
detached  houses,  Avith  rustic  porches  and  trailing  plants 
about  them,  his  desire  being  to  see  Philadelphia  '  a 
greene  country  towne.'  " 

With  this  vision  always  before  him,  the  voyage  ended 
at  last  and  the  little  company  of  faithful  people,  worn 
by  nine  weeks  of  battling,  not  only  with  wind  and  wave, 
but  with  the  small-pox — which  had  broken  out  directly 
after  starting,  killed  thirty  and  left  many  others  weak, 
depressed  and  unfit  for  the  labor  awaiting  them — sailed 
up  the  Delaware,  and  the  Welcome  dropped  anchor  at 
the  little  Swedish  town  of  Upland,  or  Optland,  then  the 
chief  town  of  the  province.  A  single  pine  marked  the 
spot  at  which  Penn  stepped  on  shore,  and  as  he  touched 
the  new  soil  he  turned  to  Pearson,  who  had  been  his  com- 
panion and  friend,  and  requested  from  him  a  name  that 
should  commemorate  this  first  moment  of  possession. 
Too  modest  to  give  his  own  name,  Pearson  suggested, 
"(yhester,  in  remembrance  of  the  city  whence  I  came," 
and  Chester  it  remains  to-day,  a  quaint  and  curi- 
ous town,  which  for  some  time  hoped  and  expected  to 
become  the  city  Penn  had  planned.  Here,  in  the 
Friends'  Meeting  House,  a  plain  Ijrick  building  opposite 


THE  CITY  OF  A  DREAM.  47 

the  one  where  Penn  remained  as  guest,  a  General  As- 
sembly was  called,  and  the  Frame  of  Government  and 
the  Provisional  Laws  already  published  in  England 
were  discussed.  Delaware  sent  her  representatives ; 
the  two  provinces  were  declared  united  ;  twenty-one 
new  laws  were  added  to  the  forty  already  formed,  and 
at  the  end  of  a  three  days'  session  the  colonists,  having 
founded  a  state  and  secured  for  themselves  and  their 
posterity  both  civil  and  religious  freedom,  returned  to 
their  plows  and  the  quiet  round  of  every-day  life. 

Penn's  first  step  was  to  visit  the  various  seats  of  gov- 
ernment in  Xew  York,  the  Jerseys  and  Maryland,  and, 
at  the  last  point,  Lord  Baltimore  came  out  to  meet  him 
with  a  retinue  of  all  the  principal  persons  of  the  pro- 
vince. No  amicable  arrangement  as  to  boundary  seemed 
possible,  and,  giving  up  the  hope  of  adjusting  conflict- 
ing opinions,  Penn  first  settled  all  questions  as  to  the 
purchase  and  division  of  land  and  turned  then  to  the 
plan  for  the  new  city. 

Holme,  who  had  been  for  six  months  surveying  the 
province,  agreed  that  the  best  site  was  the  narrow 
neck  of  land  at  the  junction  of  the  Delaware  and 
Schuylkill.  Clay,  for  brick-making,  abounded  on  the 
spot,  and  immense  stone  quarries  were  but  a  few  miles 
away.  The  entire  land  was  owned  by  three  Swedes, 
from  whom  the  Governor  bought  it  on  their  own  terms, 
their  settlement  including  only  a  few  log  huts  and  caves, 
with  a  little  church  where  loop-holes  served  as  window 
lights,  or  "for  firearms  in  case  of  need,"  while  all  be- 


48  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

yond  was  the  unbrokeia  forest  of  Wiccacoa.  At  Passa- 
jungli  Avas  the  white-uut  wood  hut  of  Sven  Schute,  the 
Commander,  and  not  far  away  a  sturdy  little  fort  of  logs 
filled  in  with  sand  and  stones  bade  defiance  to  all  ene- 
mies, whether  white  or  Indian.  For  ten  years  the 
"  Swedes  within  a  radius  of  fifteen  miles  had  gathered  in 
the  little  block-house,  listening  to  the  Postilla  read  to 
them  by  the  trembling  voice  of  Anders  Bengtssen,  a 
weak  old  man,  and  at  intervals  they  sent  out  appeals 
for  some  teacher  who  might  for  their  souls'  sake  come 
to  them  in  the  wilderness. 

In  1697  the  prayer  was  granted,  and  the  three  mis- 
sionaries sent  by  Charles  XI  arrived,  and  proceeded 
very  shortly  to  build  the  little  church,  still  standing  at 
the  corner  of  Christian  and  Swanson  Streets.  The  great 
beechwood  trees  in  which  it  was  set  have  disappeared. 
The  church,  banked  in  with  sunken  grave-stones,  is  just 
above  a  busy  wharf,  and  only  the  names  of  its  founders  re- 
main, some  of  them  cut  in  the  slate  stones  in  the  Mother 
country  and  sent  over.  Sven.  Schute,  called  by  Queen 
Christina  her  "brave  and  fearless  lieutenant,"  sleeps 
here,  with  many  a  forgotten  Peterssen  and  Bengtssen, 
head-stones  and  graves  alike  lost  to  sight.  To  the  little 
church,  whose  carvings  and  bell  and  communion  service 
were  all  gifts  of  the  King,  Quakers,  Swedes  and  Indians 
thronged,  "  marveling  at  the  magnificent  structure, "and 
for  years  after  the  founding  of  the  actual  city  it  was  re- 
garded Avith  pride.  Wilson,  the  ornithologist,  wor- 
shiped here,  and  lies  now  in  the  churchyard,  where  he 


THE  CITY  OF  A  DREAM. 


49 


begged  to  be  buried, 
because  it  was  "a 
silent,  sbady  place, 
where  the  birds 
would  be  apt  to 
come  and  sing  over 
his  grave."  Kalm, 
the  natvu'alist,  sent 
out  from  the  Uni- 
versity at  Upsala 
to  examine  the  flora  of  North  America,  had  a 
place  in  the  shadowy  little  pews,  and  his  name 
remains  to  us  in  the  laurel  taken  home  by  him  with 
many  another  strange  plant ;  and  named  by  Linnaeus,  in 


weathen  vane  from  grist 
mill  ix  delaware  county 
owned  by  william  penn, 
saml'el  carpenter  am) 
<;aleb  pusey. 


50  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

his  honor,  Kahiiia.  And  there  also  lies  a  quiet  woman, 
Hannah,  wife  of  Nicholas  Collin,  the  last  of  the 
Swedish  missionaries,  who,  through  all  straits  of  pov- 
erty and  disease,  went  her  way  till  the  strife  ended 
and  the  undemonstrative  and  silent  husband  wrote  over 
her : 

"In  Memory  of  her  piety,  neatness  and  economy  and  of 
the  gentleness  of  the  Affection  with  which  she  sustained 
him  through  many  trying  Years  ;  and  of  his  Grief  for  her, 
which  shall  not  cease  until  he  shall  meet  her  in  the  land 
of  the  living." 

Before  a  house  had  been  built,  arrivals  poured  in. 
Twenty-three  vessels  followed  Penn  within  six  months, 
and  the  crowd  of  immigrants  all  wished  to  remain  in 
the  new  city.  Suffering  was  inevitable,  but  the  enthu- 
siasm of  the  new  undertaking  was  upon  every  one. 
Many  camped  under  the  huge  pines  of  the  forest ;  many 
more  became  cave-dwellers,  though  not  a  trace  re- 
mains of  this  supremely  uncomfortable  life  shared  by 
rich  and  poor  alike.  The  sod-houses  of  Nebraska 
and  Kansas  approach  more  nearly  to  the  Philadelphia 
"caves"  than  any  form  of  dwelling  known  at  the 
present  day  to  refugee  or  colonist.  The  caves  were 
"formed  by  digging  three  or  four  feet  into  the  ground, 
near  the  verge  of  the  river-front  bank,  thus  making 
half  the  chamber  underground  ;  the  remaining  half 
above  gi'ound  was  formed  of  sods  of  earth,  or  earth 
and  brush  combined.  The  roofs  were  formed  of  layers 
of  limbs  or  split  pieces  of  trees,  overlaid  with  sod  or 
bark,  river  rushes,  etc.    The  chimneys  wore  of  stones 


;X^>.»  --.■JS.---'—  .*  ^  -  ^X »;.     •  -r«i 


<    I. 


*r 


GLORIA   DEI    (old   SWEDES')  CHURCH. 


THE  CITY  OF  A  DREAM.  53 

and  river  pebbles  mortared  together  with  clay  and 
grass  or  river  reeds." 

Here,  while  the  building  went  on,  delicate  women  who 
had  known  only  luxury  in  England  worked  with  Saxon 
energy,  helping  fathers  and  husbands — bringing  in 
water,  cutting  wood,  tending  pigs  and  sheep  and  poul- 
try, even  carrying  mortar,  or  helping  saw  a  block  of 
wood.  Through  all  weariness  and  discouragement,  the 
memory  of  "  woful  Europe"  acted  as  a  spur,  and  within 
a  few  months  Penn  was  able  to  write  to  the  Society  of 
Traders  that  eighty  houses  and  cottages  were  ready. 

The  foundation  of  the  Guest  house  had  been  laid  be- 
fore Peun's  arrival,  and  as  he  stepped  from  the  open 
boat  in  which  he  had  come  from  Chester  to  the  "low 
and  sandy  beach"  where  Dock  Creek  emptied  into  the 
Delaware,  the  builders  flocked  to  the  shore.  The  point 
seemed  in  every  way  the  best  suited  for  tavern,  ferry 
and  general  place  of  business,  and  Guest's  house  became 
from  that  date  the  Blue  Anchor  Inn,  being  then  and  for 
many  years  "  beer-house,  exchange,  corn-market,  post- 
office  and  landing  place."  This  first  public  building  was 
formed  of  wooden  rafters  filled  in  with  bricks  brought 
from  England,  like  houses  still  to  be  seen  in  Cheshire,  of 
the  Tudor  and  Stuart  periods.  It  had  a  frontage  of 
twelve  feet  on  the  river,  and  ran  back  twenty-two  feet 
into  what  was  afterwards  called  Dock  Street.  The  ferry 
crossed  Dock  Creek  to  Society  Hill,  recorded  as  "  having 
its  summit  on  Pine  Street  and  rising  in  graceful  gran- 
deur from  the  precincts  of  Spruce  Street,"  and  a  ferry 


54  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

also  carried  persons  to  AVindmill  Island,  where  grain 
was  ground  by  a  windmill,  or  to  the  Jersey  shore.  Ten 
other  houses,  known  a3  Budd's  Long  Row,  stretched 
northward,  all  built  of  wood  in  precisely  the  same  man- 
ner, tilled  in  with  small  bricks,  the  fittings  and  fur- 
nishings having  been  brought  from  England. 

Within  a  year  of  Penn's  arrival  a  hundred  houses, 
many  of  them  of  stone  with  pointed  roofs,  balconies  and 
porches,  had  been  built.  Three  hundred  farms  were 
settled  and  the  first  crops  harvested,  and  sixty  vessels 
had  arrived  in  the  Delaware.  Before  the  second  year 
ended  six  hundred  houses  stood  complete,  and  the  Gov- 
ernor wrote  with  honest  and  pardonable  exultation 
to  Lord  Sunderland  :  "  With  the  help  of  God  and  such 
noble  friends  I  will  show  a  province  in  seven  years  equal 
to  her  neighbor's  of  forty  years'  planting." 

Massachusetts,  founded  by  scholars,  printed  no  book 
nor  paper  till  eighteen  years  after  her  first  settlement. 
In  New  York  seventy-three  years  passed  before  a  print- 
ing-press was  deemed  essential,  while  in  Virginia  and 
Maryland  the  mere  mention  of  one  was  regarded  by 
their  governors  as  anarchy  and  treason.  But  a  printer, 
William  Bradford,  of  Leicester,  went  out  with  Penn  in 
the  Welcome^  and  when  the  first  stress  of  building  was 
over,  set  up  his  press,  printing  an  Almanac  for  1G87, 
which  had  of  course  been  set  up  the  preceding  year. 
Schools  had  come  fii'st,  Enoch  Flower  having  built  a 
rude  hut  of  pine  and  cedar  planks,  divided  in  two  parts 
by  a  wooden  partition  ;  and  here  in  December,  1683,  the 


SEAL   OF   PEN2i  S   COLONY. 


THE  CITY  OF  A  BREAM.  57 

children  came  together,  and  the  minutes  of  tlie  town 
council  record  both  charges  and  curriculum  : 

"To  learn  to  read,  four  shillings  a  quarter;  to  write, 
six  shillings  ;  boarding  a  scholar — to  w  it,  diet,  lodging, 
washing  and  schooling — ton  pounds  the  whole  year." 

Schools  and  press  were  the  key-note  of  the  new  colony, 
and  within  six  months  from  its  landing  one  other  unno- 
ticed event  indexed  its  intellectual  and  moral  status  as 
nothing  else  could  have  done.  The  Swedes,  who  re- 
tained in  full  the  superstitious  terror  of  their  northern 
solitudes,  brought  before  the  Council  a  miserable  old 
woman  accused  as  witch.  Conviction  would  have  been 
pardonable  in  a  day  w^hen  men  like  Richard  JBaxter  and 
Cotton  Mather  recorded  their  faith  in  "a  god,  a  devil 
and  witchcraft,"  wiiile  even  George  Fox  believed  in 
witches  and  his  own  power  to  overcome  them.  The 
Governor  listened  quietly,  no  clue  to  his  real  thought 
on  the  benevolent  face ;  summed  up  to  the  jur}-,  com- 
posed half  of  English,  half  of  Swedes,  in  order  to  pre- 
vent dissatisfaction  with  the  verdict,  and  waited  for  the 
result.  Decision  w'as  speedy.  They  found  her  guilty 
of  having  the  reputation  of  witchcraft,  but  not  guilty 
in  manner  or  form  as  indicted.  Her  friends  were  merely 
required  to  give  securities  for  her  that  she  would  keep 
the  peace.  A  half  smile  was  on  the  Governor's  face  as 
he  left  the  court-room,  and  thus  ended  the  first  and  last 
witch  trial  in  the  State  of  Pennsylvania. 

To-day,  between  Chestnut  and  Market,  Second  and 
Pront,  the  searcher  for  old   landmarks  will  find  the 


58  A  SYLVAJV  CITY. 

house  built  and  occupied  by  Penn  during  his  first  visit. 
Bricks,  wooden  carving  and  "servants  to  put  them  in 
place,"  came  over  together  from  England. 

"Pitch  my  house  in  the  middle  of  the  town,  facing 
the  harbor,"  he  had  written  to  his  commissioners  the 
year  before,  and  this  would  seem  to  settle  the  still  vexed 
question  as  to  which  house  in  Letitia  Court  is  to  be  con- 
sidered the  oi'iginal  one,  the  one  on  the  west  side  an- 
swering this  description,  and  having  been  identified  by 
a  Robert  Venables,  who  knew  it  from  a  child,  and  who 
died  in  1834  at  the  age  of  ninety-eight.  "  A  great  and 
stately  pile  "  was  built  at  Pennsbury,  near  Trenton,  the 
forest  land  .sweeping  down  to  the  Delaware,  the  deer 
ranging  at  will  in  this  natural  park  ;  but  through  his 
first  visit  the  Governor  preferred  the  little  house  with 
its  nearness  to  all  business  interests.  Later  he  moved 
to  what  is  known  as  Slate-Roof  House,  at  the  southeast 
corner  of  N^orris  Alley  and  Second  Street,  and  at  his 
second  visit,  in  1700,  transferred  the  little  house  to  his 
daughter  Letitia,  for  whom  in  time  the  court  w^as  named. 
Both  houses  have  passed  through  various  transitions,  the 
larger  one  being  after  Penn's  occupancy  left  in  charge 
of  James  Logan,  his  secretary,  and  used  as  a  govern- 
ment house.  But  before  this,  sorrow  of  every  sort  had 
come  to  the  Governor.  Political  difficulties  arising  from 
liord  Baltimore's  ambition  and  determined  pushing  of 
his  personal  claims  ;  his  wife  dangerously  ill ;  his  dearest 
friend,  Algernon  Sidney,  a  victim  by  the  block,  and 
Shaftesbury  and  Essex  in  prison ;  persecutions  raging 


THE  CITY  OF  A  DREAM. 


59 


against  all  iion-conformers,  and  his  own  enemies  at 
work.  To  return  to  England  was  absolutely  necessary, 
but  he  went  with  a  heavy  heart,  leaving  behind  a  letter 
in  which  he  apostrophises  the  city  of  his  love  : 


penn's  house  in  letitia  street. 

"And  thou,  Philadelpliia,  the  virgin  settlement  of  this 
province,  named  before  thou  wast  born,  what  love,  what 
care,  what  service  and  what  travail  has  there  been  to  bring 
thee  forth  and  preserve  thee  from  such  as  would  abuse  and 
defile  thee  !  My  soul  prays  to  God  for  thee,  that  thou 
mayest  stand  in  tlie  day  of  trial,  that  thy  children  maybe 
blessed  of  the  Lord,  and  thy  people  saved  by  His  power." 


60  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

There  was  need  of  such  prayer  far  beyond  his  own 
knowledge  or  worst  apprehension,  for,  seek  as  he  might, 
many  years  went  by  before  he  saw  again  the  city  whose 
foundations  were  in  his   very   soul.     They  were  hard 
years,  and  few  lives  hold  record  of  deeper  tragedy  than 
filled  every  one.     With  the  change  of  dynasty  and  its 
endless  complications  came  a  disaster  which  for  a  time 
threatened  utter  ruin.     An  order  of  the  Council,  which 
regarded  him  as  the  friend  of  the  exiled  King,  deprived 
him  of  the  government  of  his  province  and  annexed  it  to 
New  York,  and  the  place  of  the  wise  and  far-sighted 
Governor  was  given  to  a  man,  "a  mere  soldier,  coarse, 
abrupt  and  unlettered,"  a  stranger  to  the  founder's  ideas 
and  intentions.  That  the  charter  was  still  valid  and  the 
whole  action  illegal  could  not  hinder  present  harm,  but 
more  than  a  year  passed  before  the  course  of  affairs 
could  be  changed.     Not  until  thirty  months  of  constant 
labor  and  bitter  anxiety  were  ended  was  the  order  re- 
voked. King  William  becoming  convinced  of  his  own 
mistake  ;  but  the  restoration  came  too  late  for  the  wife, 
Avho   had   sickened  and   pined   through   the   sorrowful 
waiting,  dying  at   last   in    Penn's   arms.      His   oldest 
son,  Springett,  owning  the  sweetest  and  noblest  traits 
of   both   father  and   mother,  was   in  a  decline.     Le- 
titia  and   William  were  the  only  remaining  children, 
the    latter    his    heir,    but    totally    unUke    the     elder 
brother,   being  a  reproduction    of   all    the    worst    as 
well  as  some  of  the  best  points  of  his  grandfather,  the 
Admiral.     Yearn  as  Penn  might  for  the  quiet  of  Peun- 


THE  CITY  OF  A  DREAM.  61 

sylvania,  it  was  impossible  to  leave  this  favorite  son, 
and  six  years  passed  after  the  restoration  of  his  rights  be- 
fore he  again  set  foot  in  his  own  province.  The  years 
without  Guli  had  been  full  of  anxious  forebodings,  for 
nothing  in  the  son  gave  promise  that  the  colony  could 
prosper  in  his  hands,  and,  helpless  vuider  many  house- 
hold difficulties,  a  second  marriage  seemed  the  natural 
solution.  Hannah  Callowlull,  long  known  and  a  valued 
friend,  was  his  choice  ;  not  only  a  notable  housewife 
but  a  woman  of  extraordinary  sense  and  spirit  and 
equal  executive  abilit}-,  who  in  later  years  became  the 
real  ruler  of  the  province,  and  whose  name  is  perpetu- 
ated in  one  of  the  northern  streets  of  the  city.  Of  the 
six  children  of  this  marriage  John  Penn,  known  as 
"the  American,"  was  the  only  one  born  here,  the 
event  taking  place  in  the  "  Slate-Roof  House,"  just  one 
month  after  their  arrival.  The  fact  seems  not  to  have 
increased  his  love  for  America,  every  one  of  Penn's  de- 
scendants manifesting  as  much  eagerness  to  get  away 
from  the  province  as  their  progenitor  had  felt  to  reach  it. 
Pirates  and  contraband  traders  swarmed  in  the  rivers, 
and  one  of  the  Governor's  first  acts  was  to  call  the  As- 
sembly together  and  urge  an  abandonment  of  the  non- 
resistance  policy.  By  early  spring  he  had  succeeded  in 
this  and  various  other  measures  for  the  good  of  the  set- 
tlement, the  chief  of  these  being  its  formal  incorpora- 
tion as  a  city,  with  charter.  Mayor  and  other  city  ofii- 
cers.  Though  founded  in  so  short  a  time,  the  colony 
had  increased  till  equal  in  number  to  those  of  more 


62  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

than  double  its  years,  but  the  colonists  unfortunately 
shared  too  little  in  the  spirit  of  the  founder,  and  "pas- 
sion and  grasjiing  restlessness"  were  both  at  work  in 
discourao;ing  fashion. 

His  family  had  been  settled  at  Pennsbury,  which  had 
been  built  and  furnished  in  a  style  befitting  the  Gover- 
'  nor  of  a  great  province,  and  the  freest  hospitality  was 
exercised.  The  peculiar  costume  of  later  Friends  was 
unknown.  Penn  himself  wore  the  full-bottomed  wig  of 
the  period,  and  bought  four  in  one  year,  while  the  dress 
of  his  wife  and  daughter  was  quite  in  harmony  with 
such  expenditure.  The  wealthier  women  at  that  time 
wore  "white  satin  petticoats,  Avorked  in  flowers,  pearl 
satin  gowns,  or  peach-colored  satin  cloaks  ;  their  white 
necks  were  covered  with  delicate  lawn,  and  they  wore 
gold  chains  and  seals,  engraven  with  their  arms." 

Penn's  cellar  was  well  stocked  with  fine  wines,  and  he 
enjoyed  good  living,  though  always  temperately.  His 
passion  for  boating  still  remained,  and  wherever  possi- 
ble he  went  from  settlement  to  settlement  in  his  yacht, 
and  about  the  country  on  one  of  the  fine  horses  brought 
from  England.  His  charities  were  continuous,  and  some 
of  the  best  pages  in  his  history  are  the  items  of  his  private 
cash-book,  while  he  bent  every  energy  to  alterations  in 
the  constitution  and  a  better  shaping  of  every  law.  Had 
his  own  provisions  remained  in  force,  and  even  "ten 
righteous  men  "  been  found  filled  with  the  same  unsel- 
fish zeal,  the  city  would  have  been  even  now  far  in  ad- 
vance of  any  other  assemblage  of  brick  and  mortar  on 


,.'     J;i_)V.i     '!^. 


THE  CITY  OF  A  DREAM.  65 

the  continent ;  but  month  by  month  it  fell  below  the 
founder's  standard.  At  his  second  coming,  and  even  as 
late  as  1720,  there  were  but  four  streets  running  parallel 
with  the  Delaware,  while  in  177G  "the  town  extended 
only  from  Christian  to  Callowhill  Streets,  north  and 
south,  and  houses  built  as  far  west  as  Tenth  Street 
might  fairly  be  classed  as  country  seats." 

The  "great  houses  "  described  in  a  map  of  1720,  still 
to  be  seen  in  London,  were  really  small,  two-storied 
buildings,  no  larger  than  those  now  occupied  by  the 
average  artisan,  and  back  of  all  lay  the  still  nearly  un- 
broken forest,  drained  by  muddy  creeks  which  cut  the 
city  into  several  sections  before  emptying  into  the  Dela- 
ware. Penn's  enforced  and  sudden  return  to  England 
allowed  the  beginning  and  growth  of  many  abuses, 
against  which  he  struggled  with  such  enei'gy  as  was 
possible,  until  his  final  sale  of  the  province  many  years 
later.  Market-houses  filled  up  the  centre  of  High  Street, 
Avhicli  he  had  intended  should  be  free  and  unobstructed. 
The  open  stalls  gradually  lengthened  out,  not  only  here, 
but  at  many  other  points,  the  latest  relic  of  these  being 
the  old  market-house  at  the  corner  of  Second  and  Pine 
Streets.  Frankford,  Roxborough,  Germantown  and 
many  another  hamlet  grew  up  slowly  on  the  outskirts,  to 
be  eventually  swallowed  by  the  growing  city  and  form 
the  bewildering  and  involved  arrangement  of  streets 
here  and  there  contradicting  and  disconcerting  the  right- 
angled  regularity  of  the  original  plan. 

Time  and  business  exigencies  have  claimed  most  of  the 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


old  sites,  and  few  landmarks  remain  ;  but,  every  now  and 
then,  may  still  be  seen  a  house  of  the  black  and  red 
English  brick  with  the  hipped-roof  and  picturesque  out- 
line of  an  earlier  day.  Germantown  has  still  several 
specimens  unaltered,  "except  by  the  removal  of  the 
projecting  stoop  on  the  second  story,  built  as  a  vantage 
ground  in  case  of  an  expected  attack  from  the  Indians, 
who  never  came." 

Prosperity  was  the  law  of  the  city,  and,  with  comfort 
and  even  luxury  increasing  year  by  j'^ear,  the  people  set- 
tled into  comparative  indiflerence  to  anything  beyond 
material  progress.  The  Quaker  poor  had  been  provided 
for  as  early  as  1712  by  an  almshouse  on  the  south  side 
of  Walnut  Street,  above  Third,  a  portion  of  the  old 
building  standing  till  the  Centennial  year,  when  the 
space  was  filled  with  business  houses.  It  was  a  collec- 
tion of  small  cottages,  each  with  its  occupant,  set  in  the 
midst  of  a  quaint  old  garden.  The  City  Poorhouse  was 
"  on  a  green  meadow,"  extending  from  Spruce  to  Pine 
Streets  and  from  Third  to  Fourth,  and,  contrar}'  to  all 
accepted  belief  and  statement,  it  was  here,  and  not  in 
the  Quaker  Almshouse,  that  Evangeline  found  Gabriel. 
The  latter  was  simply  an  asylum  for  their  own  aged 
poor  and  never  used  as  hospital,  while  contemporary 
records  show  that  the  former  swarmed  with  fever  and 
cholera  patients,  and  that  the  Sisters  of  Charity  acted 
as  nurses  through  both  epidemics.  Custom  is  stronger 
than  fact  or  reason,  and  pilgrims  will  still  fall  before  the 
wrong  shrine  ;  though,  as  both  ai'e  covered  by  business 


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777^  CITY  OF  A  DREAM.  69 

houses,  thrills  of  emotion  may  be  experienced  with  equal 
facility  at  either  point. 

The  need  for  prisons  made  itself  felt  in  1682,  when 
"the  Council  ordered  that  William  Clayton,  one  of  the 
Provisional  Council,  should  build  a  cage  against  next 
Council  day,  of  seven  feet  long  by  five  feet  broad."  A 
private  dwelling  house  was  fitted  up  for  the  second,  and 
a  third  and  more  substantial  -one  w^as  built  in  1685,  in 
the  centre  of  High  Street,  and  indicted  as  a  common 
nuisance  in  1702,  Penn  having  protested  against  that 
and  many  other  violations  of  the  original  plan.  A  much 
more  elaborate  stone  building  at  the  corner  of  Third 
and  High,  known  till  after  the  Revolution  as  "the  old 
Stone  Prison,"  was  the  seed  of  the  present  famous 
structures,  and  with  self-government  for  the  colony  be- 
gan the  reforms  in  prison  discipline  adopted  in  full 
years  before  other  States  considered  the  subject  worthy 
of  attention. 

The  Quaker  Pest-house  disappeared  long  ago,  to  be 
replaced  by  the  Pennsylvania  Hospital,  at  Eighth  and 
Pine  streets,  the  original  building  still  forming  a  small 
wing  to  the  present  one. 

On  Chestnut  street  above  Third  stood  the  hall  of  the 
"Honorable  Society  of  Carpenters,"  memorable  always 
as  the  meeting  place  of  the  first  Continental  Congress, 
the  State  House,  though  finished,  being  then  occupied 
by  the  Provincial  Assembly.  But  these,  though  essen- 
tially a  part  of  old  Philadelphia,  are  of  another  era,  and 
before  their  building  had  come  a  time  when  the  mind  of 


70  A  STLVAN  CITY. 

the  founder  ceased  to  influence  the  city  it  had  planned, 
and  after  long  experience  of  neglect,  dishonesty,  in- 
gratitude and  every  wrong  which  seems  to  spring  natu- 
rally from  the  possession  of  unearned  and  undeserved 
privileges,  Penn  transferred  all  right  and  title  in  the 
disappointing  colony  to  the  Crown,  retaining  only  his 
Governorship.  "The  Holy  Experiment"  remained  holy 
only  to  the  originator,  and  so  far  as  lay  in  their  power 
the  people  of  Philadelphia  ignored  his  wishes,  set  aside 
many  of  his  provisions  in  the  Constitution,  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  crowding  misfortunes  into  which,  through 
the  treachery  of  his  steward,  he  was  precipitated,  sought 
only  to  wring  from  them  the  largest  amount  of  conces- 
sion for  themselves.  The  years  that  follow  hold  much 
the  same  record,  and  though  Logan  and  a  few  devoted 
friends  did  their  best  to  carry  out  his  system  and  ideas, 
the  city  ceased  to  represent  the  mind  of  its  founder. 

To  one  man  alone  the  ideal  had  come,  and  it  would 
seem  that  when  failing  powers  and  fortunes  had  done 
their  worst,  the  great  soul  was  allowed  to  transfer 
its  ideals  to  a  mind  more  practical,  and  thus  in  the  end 
more  successful.  Philadelphia's  story  would  have  ended 
then  and  there,  so  far  as  anything  but  material  progress 
and  prosperity  were  concerned,  but  for  the  mind  of  Ben- 
jamin Franklin,  who  gave  the  first  impetus  toward  in- 
tellectual life,  and  whose  name  might  justly  stand  as 
the  founder  and  originator  of  every  means  of  genuine 
growth. 

"Schools,  universities,  free  churches,  public  libraries. 


u 

H 

CO 

O 

a. 

H 

n 

H 

o 

o 


Ir" 

!»■ 

» 
O 
O 

n 
o 
a 


THE  CITY  OF  A  DREAM.  73 

drainage,  fire  aucl  militai-y  companies,  street  lamps  and 
street  sweeping — every  reform  from  the  broad  policy  of 
the  statesman  to  the  smallest  detail  bears  somewhere 
the  bold  scrawl,  Franklin  fecit.'''' 

What  Penn  had  hoped  for  was  to  come  from  no  son 
of  his.  William,  his  successor,  died  from  his  excesses ; 
John  visited  his  province,  but  returned  with  speed  to  ' 
the  steadj'-going  English  life  he  preferred,  and  the 
family  and  descendants  of  the  great  non-conformist  then 
and  after  became  sleek  and  reputable  Church  of  England 
men  ;  some  with  scholai-ly  tastes,  but  not  one  with  any 
marked  portion  of  individuality,  purpose  or  ability. 

The  Quaker  element  of  the  city,  though  dominant, 
had  intermixed  Avith  it  a  large  population  who  were  not 
so  certain  that  all  necessary  Avisdom  could  be  obtained 
by  the  facility  of  an  inward  flash.  Something  of  the  libe- 
ral tone  of  a  metropolis  had  gained  upon  it,  until  "  by 
the  close  of  the  colonial  age  Philadelphia  had  grown  to 
be  the  centre  of  a  literary  activity  more  vital  and  ver- 
satile than  Avas  to  be  seen  anywhere  else  upon  the  con- 
tinent, except  at  Boston.  In  the  ancient  library  of 
Philadelphia  there  ai'c  four  hundred  and  tAveuty-five 
original  books  and  pamphlets  that  Avere  printed  in  that 
city  before  the  Revolution,"  many  of  them  being  descrip- 
tions of  the  beauty  and  desirability  of  the  province  as  a 
home. 

It  Avas  in  1712  that  the  first  shock  of  paralysis  fell 
upon  Penn,  Avho  had  borne  then  for  ten  years  some  of 
the  heaviest  burdens  of  his  burdened  life.    There  were 


74  A  SYLVAIi  CITY. 

weeks  of  lethargy,  and  months  in  which  business  was 
kept  from  liim,  the  first  attempt  to  attend  to  it  result- 
ing in  another  shock.  Through  it  all,  Hannah  Penn 
managed  the  affairs  of  his  government  with  an  energy 
and  wisdom  almost  equal  to  his  own,  James  Logan, 
in  Philadelphia,  writing  every  detail  to  her  and  con- 
tinuing the  loyal  service  which  had  for  many  years 
made  Penn's  affairs  stand  far  l)efore  his  own. 

With  a  third  and  final  shock  all  active  mental  Ufe 
ended.  There  were  five  years  in  which  he  rested  at 
Ruscombe,  waiting  for  the  end — years  in  which  no  trace 
of  the  Quaker  soldier  remained,  save  the  gentle,  serene 
temper  that  even  in  sharpest  conflict  had  never  failed 
those  who  loved  him.  A  child  again,  he  played  with 
the  abandoned  children  of  his  oldest  son,  wandering 
with  them  from  room  to  room  of  the  great  house,  and 
only  troubled  when  he  discovered  his  wife  writing. 
Though  memory  had  gone,  some  vague  sense  of  grief 
and  difficulty  seemed  to  associate  itself  with  this  inces- 
sant correspondence,  and  at  last  it  became  necessary  to 
carry  it  on  secretly  or  at  night.  Friends  watched  him, 
and  he  clung  to  them  though  their  names  could  not  be 
recalled.  At  last  in  a  summer  morning,  daybreak  just 
visible  in  the  sky,  the  end  came.  The  City  of  a  Dream 
had  long  since  passed  from  his  mind,  and  the  dreamer 
awoke  now  in  a  better  "  city  whose  builder  and  maker 
is  God." 


"CASPIPINA:" 

THE  STORY   OP   A  MOTHEU   CHURCH. 


.-ti*    «••   —  ••  ■  JWi 

-J..    I  MM  -  ^       _■»■ 
^  f.-«BO(i.,     -   .■«■ 


^fs^?^"^^^^^^^^       Ix  the  old  days 

in  Philadelphia, 
when  Christ 
Church  and  St.  Peter's 
— the  "  new  church  on 
the  hill  " — formed  but 
one  parish,  they  had  a 
rector  and  two  assist- 
ants who  were  l)orn 
and  bred  Ph  i  la  del- 
phi  an  s.  The  rector 
was  the  Rev.  Jacob  Duche,  the  assistants  William  "White 
and  Thomas  Coomlje. 

Mr.  Duche  had  been  educated  in  England,  and  was 

75 


ST.    PETER'S    GATE. 


78  A  SYLVAJV  CITY. 

ordained  by  the  Bishop}  of  London  upon  the  request  of 
the  vestry  of  Christ  Church,  of  which  his  father  was  a 
inember,  for  tlie  express  pui'pose  of  acting  as  assistant 
to  Dr.  Jenney,  who  was  then  the  rector  of  the  church. 
The  young  fellow  was  full  of  the  spirit  of  his  day,  and, 
as  "Junius,"  had  set  all  England  to  public  letter- 
writing,  Mr.  Duche  had  not  been  very  long  at  home 
before  he,  too,  printed  his  "Observations  on  a  Variety 
of  Subjects,  Literary,  Moral  and  Religious,"  describing 
himself  as  "a  gentleman  of  foreign  extraction,"  and 
signing  himself  "Caspipina,"  "an  ingenious  acrostic," 
which  means  "  Christ  and  St.  Peter's,  in  Philadelphia, 
in  North  America."  The  title  is  now  over  a  hundred 
years  old,  but  it  covers  the  subject  of  this  paper,  and 
by  its  very  quaintness  suggests  the  spirit  of  the  early 
colonial  days,  and  carries  us  back  to  the  fashions  and 
life  of  the  days  when  "  Christ  and  St.  Peter's  "  were 
growing  into  shape  and  influencing  the  history  of  the 
city  and  the  church. 

When  we  think  of  life  in  eai'ly  Philadelphia  we  recall 
William  Penn  and  his  group  of  Quaker  friends,  and  the 
existence  of  a  "Church  party"  seems  of  little  import- 
ance. To  Penn  himself  it  was  at  first  a  matter  of 
friendly  indifference,  but  it  soon  began  to  show  itself  as 
an  agitating  force,  busy  and  active,  and  in  the  history 
of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  the  LTnited  States 
Christ  Church  stands  as  a  mother,  sending  her  children 
everywhere  through  the  country,  cheering  them  when 
at  work  and  calling  them  back  to  her  for  counsel.     In 


ST.    PETEK'S. 


''  caspipina:' 


the  history  of  the  country  she  also  has  her  place.  Mr. 
Duche  made  the  first  pra5'er  in  Congress,  Bishop  AVhite 
was  the  first  chaplain,  and  AVashington  and  many  of  his 
generals  and  statesmen  worshipped  within  her  walls. 
The  day  Independence  was  declai'ed  her  bells  were 
rung,  the  vestry  struck  out  the  name  of  the  King  from 
the  liturgy  and  took  his  bust  from  the  wall.  Her  rector, 
William  White,  was  the  first  bishop  of  English  conse- 
cration in  the  United  States,  and  his  first  sermon  in  his 
new  position  was  preached  in  St.  Peter's  Church.  In 
Christ  Church  was  held  the  first  General  Convention 
of  the  Church  ;  here  our  American  prayer-book  was 
adopted,  and  in  the  long  years  since  1694,  when  it  was 
founded,  what  a  line  of  bishops,  of  priests,  of  deacons, 
of  communicants,  of  old  and  young,  clergy  and  laity, 
has  gone  from  these  old  walls  !  The  bells  have  pealed 
for  hundreds  of  weddings  and  tolled  for  as  many  fune- 
rals, and  the  babe  who  was  baptized  in  its  font  has  been 
carried  back  in  old  age  and  laid  before  its  altar,  and  then 
taken  away  to  rest  in  its  churchyard.  There  are  few 
old  families  in  the  city  who  have  not  some  link  with  the 
history  of  "  Caspipina,"  and  how  many  churches  and 
missions  in  the  country  have  looked  to  them  when  help 
was  needed. 

When  William  Penn,  in  1682,  came  up  the  Delaware 
River  he  came  with  a  well-settled  plan.  He  had  no 
vague  ideas  of  flying  somewhere  in  a  new  world  for 
refuge  and  prosperity.  Other  men  filled  with  as  much 
energy  and  resolution  had  had  less  purpose,  and  had 


80  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

^ . —  -   ■     -      .  ■  ■        ■  ^ 

boldly  pushed  for  foreign  shores,  making  a  home  on  the 
first  spot  to  which  Providence  or  chance  led  them. 
Penn  looked  much  farther  ahead,  and  had  his  plans 
made  before  he  started.  He  had  selected  a  fair  and 
fertile  country  and  had  secured  a  grant  of  it  from  the 
king,  and  meant,  being  provident  and  peaceful,  as  well 
as  energetic,  to  have  his  title  ratiiied  by  the  original 
owners.  He  had  decided  upon  the  names  of  his  pro- 
vince and  its  future  city,  and  the  plan  of  the  latter, 
founded,  it  is  said,  on  that  of  Babylon,  lay  clear  and  de- 
finite in  his  mind.  Before  his  prophetic  vision  the  forests 
disappeared,  and  a  "green  country  town,  always  whole- 
some," embowered  in  gardens,  peaceful  and  prosperous, 
"  lay  betwixt  its  rivers."  He  meant  this  city  to  be  free 
to  all  good  people,  sober  and  of  honest  repute,  but  his 
first  concern  was,  of  course,  for  his  own  friends.  It  was 
to  hold  its  gates  open  to  all  sects,  but  it  was  to  be  gov- 
erned by  the  Quakers,  and  all  settlers  were  expected  to 
agree  with  the  spirit  that  should  animate  the  laws  and 
their  working.  The  invitation  Penn  sent  out  was  so 
broad  and  so  enticing  that  he  soon  had  a  larger  following 
than  any  other  single  leader  into  the  New  World,  but 
he  drew  very  few  vagabonds  and  soldiers  of  fortune.  It 
was  a  fair  country  he  offered,  but  it  was  to  be  pervaded 
by  law  and  order,  and  the  conditions  were  not  of  advan- 
tage to  the  free-lances.  But  with  the  Friends  from 
London,  and  York,  and  Cheshire,  and  all  parts  of  Eng- 
land,  came  also  their  neighbors  and  relations  who  were 
still  Churchmen.     These  were  not  fleeing  from  persecu- 


'« CASPIPINA."  81 


tion,  but  were  energetic,  educated  younger  sons,  and 
men  of  the  middle  class,  who  determined  to  secure  better 
fortunes  than  England  gave  them.  They  soon  became 
a  prosperous  and  influential  element  in  the  Pennsylva- 
nia colony,  and,  as  Avas  inevitable,  became  also  a  dis- 
turbing power.  The  Churchmen  were  law-abiding,  but 
they  were  not  Quakers,  and  they  did  not  agree  with 
many  of  the  plans  and  usages  of  Penn's  administration, 
and  they  were  very  open  on  the  subject.  For  some 
years,  however,  all  went  quietly  enough.  The  forest 
was  to  be  cleared  away,  homes  built,  communication 
established,  and  there  was  as  much  unity  as  industry. 
The  Swedes  had  their  church  and  the  Friends  their 
meeting-house,  and  it  is  likely  the  Church  people  went 
to  either  one  or  the  other.  Their  own  Church  was  very 
scantily  represented  in  the  colonies,  and  along  the 
twelve  hundred  miles  of  sea-coast,  dotted  here  and  there 
with  English  settlements,  were  few  ministers  and  fewer 
churches.  The  chaplain  at  the  fort  in  New  York  tra- 
veled about  as  he  could,  but  in  neither  Pennsylvania, 
the  Jerseys,  New  York  or  New  England  was  there  a 
resident  clerg3'man. 

This  condition  of  atikirs  was  mvicli  talked  about  in 
certain  circles,  and  in  1695  the  Bishop  of  London  sent 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Clayton  to  Philadelphia,  to  do  what  was 
possible.  When  he  came  he  did  not  find  a  large  congre- 
gation, Ijut  he  ihfw  al)()ut  fifty  people  together  ;  they 
held  regular  service,  and  at  once  began  to  build  a  little 
brick  church  on  a  lot  of  ground  by  a  pond,  where  the 


83  A  SYLVJJf  CITY. 

ducks  swam  and  the  boys  waded.     "  Blind  Alice,"  an 
ancient  colored  woman,  often  quoted  by  the  early  histo- 
rians, said  that  she  could  touch  the  roof  with  her  hand, 
but  this  is  considered  something  of  an  exaggeration,  un- 
less the  good  lady  grew  very  much  shorter  as  she  grew 
older.     But,  no  matter  how  low  the   building  was,  it 
was  considered  very  handsome  and  very  much  of  an 
enterprise  ;  and   before   Mr.    Clayton   died,   two  years 
after,  his  congregation  had  grown  to  seven  hundred, 
and   there  are   jiarishes   to-day  that   cannot  boast  as 
much  prosperity,   and  certainly  not  as  quick  growth ! 
Many    of   these    new    members   were    converts    from 
Quakerism,  and  this  did  not  please  the  Penn  party,  and 
when,  in  1700,  Dr.  Evan  Evans  came  to  take  Mr.  Clay- 
ton's place,  and  entered  upon  his  duties  with  keen- 
sighted  and  steady  enthusiasm,  the  young  Friends  were 
forbidden  to  attend   the   services.     They  had  flocked 
there  full  of  curiosity,  and  the  broad-brims  had  come 
off  in  church  as  they  never  did  in  meeting.    Now  when 
the  edict  went  out  that  they  should  not  enter  the  doors, 
they  were  not  pleased.     Amusements  were  not  plenty 
in  Philadelphia,  and  it  was  hard  to  be  deprived  of  this 
serious,  if  vain  form.     80  then,  being  used  to  obeying 
the  letter  of  the  law,  if  not  the  spirit,  they  stood  under 
the  windows  and  listened,  and  by-and-by,  conviction 
giving  courage,  how  many  must  have  entered  the  door 
and  forever  left  the  broad-brim  hat  behind  !     The  coun- 
try Friends  coming  in  to  the  market   had  their  own 
curiosity  about  this  new  vanity,  and  were  moved  to  go 


.  "    -K:^ 


J--- 


J3 


!/_- 


\   Vi? 


'i1V^-'172.3  i^^' 


^.•jiiii;'i((Jiti.'"i'ii''.ii-'ffi.iiiwi 


^gj^ri  ■•  ~^ 


»2  \' 


.U    lo 


» 


Ji7-^- 


ai  pw4^.-^^^^_j^g;,/ 


,!!li,'J3ld...•.....^ 


%    -I'll   t  iWl-^s-  iS^    'l^tfti':,^,    r  ;    '•-.-■imt 


'"  l\\li 


rfir-.  ,\  '"- 


"  CASPTPmA."  85 


and  see  what  it  Avas  like,  and,  behold,  it  was  nothing 
new !  What  they  heard  was  simply  the  old  service 
familiar  to  so  many  of  them,  and  they  liked  it.  It 
brought  back  memories  of  their  childhood,  of  England, 
and  of  the  mothers  Avho  had  died  content  in  the  old 
faith ;  and,  as  they  listened  to  the  prayers  and  chants 
they  knew  so  well,  but  in  which  they  now  dared  not 
join,  old  affections  fought  with  new  doctrines,  and  many 
went  home  disturbed  and  discontented,  to  return  again 
and  again  to  the  little  brick  church  and  at  last  to  come 
for  baptism.  This  went  on  until  new  members  were 
numbered  by  the  hundreds,  and  Dr.  Evans'  zeal  grew 
stronger  and  stronger.  He  held  service  on  Sunday  and 
on  holy  days,  on  Wednesday  and  Friday,  on  market 
days,  and  at  last,  all  through  the  week  of  Yearly  Meet- 
ing when  the  Quakers  from  all  around  the  country  were 
in  town.  He  wore  a  surplice,  and  William  Penn  wrote 
to  James  Logan  that  "Governor  Gookin  has  presented 
Parson  Evans  with  two  gaudy  prayer-books  as  any  in 
the  Queen's  Chapel,  and  intends  as  fine  a  communion 
table  also,  both  of  which  charms  the  Bishop  of  London 
as  well  as  Parson  Evans,  whom  I  esteem." 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  there  came  a  reinforcement  to 
the  Church.  The  venerable  "Society  for  the  Propaga- 
tion of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts,"  just  organized  in 
London,  sent  George  Keith  over  as  a  missionary,  and  in 
all  the  country  around  no  man  was  better  known,  better 
hated,  better  liked  than  George  Keith.  He  had  been 
the  first  Master  of  the  Friends'  Public  School  in  the 


86  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


city  and  a  zealous  follower  of  George  Fox.  As  a  public 
Friend  he  had  led  many  a  meeting  and  written  and 
spoken  many  an  earnest  word  for  his  faith.  After  a 
time  he  began  to  have  doubts,  and  to  speak  of  them, 
and  still  having  great  influence,  he  led  five  hundred 
good  Quakers  out  of  meeting  into  a  separate  society 
which  was  called  by  its  enemies  "  The  Keithian."  He 
was  excommunicated  and  was  spoken  of  as  "an  ill-con- 
ditioned, pestilent  fellow,"  who  gave  a  great  deal  of 
trouble.  On  the  other  hand,  to  make  matters  even,  the 
history  of  the  Church  speaks  of  him  as  an  able  and  zeal- 
ous man,  who  gave  great  joy  and  satisfaction  to  the 
people  by  returning  in  the  character  of  a  minister  of 
the  Church  of  England.  With  him  came  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Talbot,  who  was  afterward  the  rector  of  St.  Mary's, 
Burlington,  N.  J.  These  two  missionaries  traveled 
around  the  country,  and,  in  1704,  there  were  six  churches 
in  and  near  Philadelphia. 

By  this  time  the  little  building  used  by  the  Christ 
Church  people  was  too  small  and  they  ordered  thirty- 
seven  thousand  bricks  from  England  and  began  to  build 
around  the  old  church,  which  lay  like  a  kernel  in  a  nut 
while  the  new  walls  went  up.  They  had  now  a  com- 
munion service,  presented  by  Queen  Anne,  which  is  still 
in  use,  and  two  bells,  both  of  which  were  afterward 
sent  to  St.  Peter's,  but  are  now  hung  in  Christ  Church 
Hospital.  When  the  time  came  to  tear  down  the  old 
church  the  congregation  went  down  to  "  Old  Swedes'  " 
and  worshipped   there  with  their  Lutheran  bretlu-en. 


"  CASPIPINA. 


s'; 


'^^- 


',1 


Penn  was  now  in  England, 
considering  whether  he  should 
transfer  his  province  to  the 
Crown,  and  the  Governor  in 
his  place  being  a  Churchman, 
built  a  pew  in  Christ  Church, 
and  then  charged  himself  an 
annual  rent  of  five  pounds  a 
year  for  it.  The  graveyard, 
Fifth  and  Arch,  where  the 
vestryman,  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin, was  afterward  buried,  was 
bought,  a  library  founded,  and 
there  was  no  lack  of  interest 
or  enterprise. 

In  the  meantime  thei'e  had 
arisen  some  complications  in 
civil  affairs,  and  the  town  was 
divided  into  two  parties,  one 
the  "Penn  government,"  the 
other  "the  Church  faction," 
as  the  early  historians  are 
pleased  to  put  it.  The  Quakers 

were  loyal  enough  to  England,  but  they  ignored  the 
King  as  far  as  they  could.  This  was  their  own  pro- 
vince, and,  as  long  as  they  were  peaceable  and  law- 
abiding,  why  should  the  powers  at  home  bother  them  ' 
The  church  people  were  restive  under  some  of  the 
Quaker  rules,  and  longed  for  royal  goveiliment,  and 


ST.    PETEK's — THE    FONT. 


88  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

more  than  once  sent  petitions  for  it  to  the  King,  and 
this  Penn  naturally  enough  resented.  Then  there 
arose  the  question  of  a  militia  force.  There  were 
threats  of  invasion  from  Indians,  and  dreadful  rumors 
of  pirates  from  the  Barbados  who  were  sworn  to  sail 
up  Delaware  Bay  and  sack  Philadelphia.  Some  of  the 
Quakers  were  in  favor  of  a  militia,  and  the  Church 
party  certainly  was.  The  only  question  was,  who 
should  serve  in  it  ?  The  whole  body  of  Quakers  an- 
swered at  once  to  this — they  could  not  !  An  armed 
resistance  was  opposed  to  all  their  principles.  "But 
some  one  must  serve,"  replied  the  Church  party.  "Cer- 
tainly," said  the  Quakers,  "and  all  of  thee  ought  to  do 
so,  for  it  is  not  against  thy  religion. "  The  Church  people 
were  not  to  be  persuaded  in  this  way.  They  were  will- 
ing to  drill  and  to  fight,  if  there  was  need,  but  the  other 
citizens  must  come  also.  They  discussed  this,  and 
James  Logan  and  other  Friends  wrote  to  England  about 
it,  yet  neither  Quaker  nor  Churchman  would  yield,  but, 
as  neither  Indian  nor  pirate  appeared,  the  only  harm 
done  was  in  the  dissension  among  the  citizens. 

In  1727  the  congregation  again  found  itself  too  large 
for  its  building,  and,  tearing  out  the  western  end,  they 
began  to  build  the  present  church.  They  looked  for- 
ward  to  the  future  and  resolved  on  final  and  ample  ac- 
commodations, but,  unhappily,  to  accomplish  their  ob- 
ject, they  mortgaged  their  present  and  the  coming  days 
together.  The  congregation  subscribed  again  and  again  ; 
help  came  from  England,  Ireland  and  the  Barbados, 


"  CASPIPmA:'  89 


and  in  1744,  after  many  troubles  with  debts,  the  build- 
ing was  finished.  Then,  in  a  few  years,  came  the  ques- 
tion of  a  steeple  and  chimes,  and  three  hundred  people 
at  once  subscribed  to  a  fund  for  them.  But  it  took  a 
great  deal  more  money  than  this  subscription  amounted 
to,  and  the  vestry  met  to  consider  what  was  best  to  be 
done.  It  was  decided  to  hold  a  lottery,  and  thirteen 
honest  men  and  true,  among  them  Benjamin  Franklin 
and  Jacob  Uuche,  "  Caspipina's  "  father,  were  appointed 
trustees  for  the  "  Philadelphia  vSteeple  Lottery."  The 
scheme  succeeded  very  well,  but  still  there  was  not 
enough,  and  so  a  second  one  was  ordered  and  the  needed 
sum  was  at  last  completed,  and,  in  17r)4,  the  steeple, 
being  all  ready,  the  ship  Ili/rtilla,  Captain  Budden, 
master,  set  sail  from  England,  bringing  a  chime  of  eight 
bells,  costing  £560  7s,  8d.  A  workman  came  to  hang 
them  ;  Captain  Budden  refused  all  payment  for  bringing 
them,  and  the  whole  town  became  greatly  excited  over 
this  addition  to  its  "credit,  beauty  and  prosperity." 
Every  one  wanted  to  hear  the  chimes,  and  it  was  or- 
dered they  should  be  rung  on  market  days,  when  the 
countrymen  were  in  town.  From  Germantown  and 
other  villages  the  people  would  walk  over  the  meadows 
and  through  the  woods,  until  they  were  near  enough  to 
the  city  to  hear  the  ringing  and  the  chiming  of  the 
bells,  and  whenever  the  Mijrtilla  was  sighted  down  the 
river  the  chimes  welcomed  and  announced  it.  The  first 
time  they  were  tolled  was  for  the  wife  of  Governor  An- 
thony Palmer,  whose  twenty-one  children  had  all  died 


90  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

of  consumption,  and,  while  the  tolling  was  going  on,  a 
careless  bell-ringer  was  caught  in  the  ropes  and  killed  ; 
and  so  some  of  the  old  Philadelphians  were  not  sure 
that  chimes  were  to  be  commended. 

Years  after  all  this,  the  tenor  bell,  which  weighed 
eighteen  hundred  pounds,  Avas  cracked,  and,  the  story 
goes,  the  vestry  tried  here  and  there  to  replace  it,  but 
no  foundry  would  promise  to  make  another  with  just 
the  same  tone  and  weight,  and  so  the  vestry  were  in  de- 
spair, until  it  occurred  to  them  that  they  had  best  see  if 
the  old  English  foundry,  where  the  bells  were  made,  was 
still  in  existence.  Lester  &  Pack,  the  old  partners,  they 
found  were  dead  long,  long  before,  but  the  younger  firm 
sent  back  word  that  the  old  bell  should  be  sent  to  them 
with  the  treble  one  to  harmonize  upon.  They  recast  it, 
and  when  it  came  back — but  not  in  the  ILjrtilla — and 
was  hung  in  its  place,  it  rang  out  perfectly  true  and  in 
concord  with  the  other  bells. 

By  this  time,  1758,  Philadelphia  was  a  fair  and  estab- 
lished city.  The  bluffs  still  bordered  the  Delaware  Eiver, 
and  green  woods  and  fields  ran  back  to  the  fine  houses  built 
on  the  Schuylkill.  There  were  bridges  over  the  creeks, 
and  down  in  the  city  some  paved  streets.  The  houses 
had  balconies  and  porches  over  the  doorway,  and  here 
in  the  cool  of  the  evening  the  fathers  sat  and  talked  of 
the  town  news  ;  the  mothers  compared  experiences  and 
complained  of  the  apprentices  who  lived  in  their  houses. 
Under  the  shade  of  the  buttonwood  and  willow  trees 
the  young  gentlemen  and  officei-s,  who  called  themselves 


"  CASPIPINA.'' 


91 


«1^ 


"Lunarians,"  strolled  up  and  down  with  bright  young 
Churchwomen  and  coquettish  Quaker  girls.  Before  the 
constables  went  to  bed  they  walked  about  to  see  if  all 
was  quiet,  and  here  and  there  lanterns  glimmed,  light- 


92  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


ing  some  old  citizen  from  his  sober  festivities.  New 
York  could  be  reached  by  John  Butler's  stage  coaches 
in  three  days,  and  stage  vessels  and  wagons  started  once 
a  week  for  Baltimore, 

There  were  few  politicians  in  the  town,  and  no  party 
lines  drawn  by  politics.     Opposite   the  State   House, 
Sixth  and   Chestnut,   stood   the  "State   House  Inn," 
built  in  1693.     It  was  still  shaded  by  the  great  walnut 
trees  that  had  stood  there  before  the   Welcome  sailed 
from   England,  and   on  its   porch  William  Penn   had 
once  sat   to   smoke  his   pipe.      Here  the  lawyers,  the 
plaintiffs  and  defendants  would  meet  and  dine,  and  back 
in  the  kitchen  little  bow-legged  dogs  ran  around  in  a 
hollow  cylinder  and  turned  the  jack  for  roasting  the 
meat.     It  was  easy  enough  to  keep  these  little  "  spit- 
dogs  "  at  work,  but  not  so  easy  to  call  them  to  it.  Once 
out  of  the  cylinder  away  they  would  go,  and  when  din- 
ner-time drew  near  the  cooks  flocked  out  of  their  kitch- 
ens and  ran  here  and  there  gathering  their  frisky  little 
doo-s   too-ether.     In   the  houses  there    were    ten-plate 
stoves,  and  later  on,  in  rich  men's  parlors,  the  Franklin 
stove  ;  prudent  women  carried  foot-stoves  to  church, 
and  the  most  comfortable  man  was  the  Quaker,  because 
In  meeting  he  kept  on  his  hat,  as  well  as  his  great-coat. 
In  the  gardens  were  lilacs  and  roses,  lilies,  snowballs, 
pinks  and  tulips ;  and  the  housewives  vied  Avith  each 
other  in  well-laden,  symmetrical  bushes  of  "  Jerusalem 
cherries." 

The  Presbyterians  and  Baptists,  the  Methodists  and 


"  CASPIPIXA."  93 


other  denominations  now  had  their  churches,  and  the 
Episcopalians  in  the  southern  part  of  the  city  felt  they 
needed  another  church.  The  Christ  Church  vestry  was 
warmly  interested  in  the  scheme,  and  the  "proprieta- 
ries," the  sons  of  William  Penn,  and  themselves  Church- 
men— for  Penn  and  his  two  Avives  were  the  only  Friends 
in  the  family — gave  a  lot  of  ground  between  Third  and 
Fourth  and  Pine  and  Lombard  streets,  and  in  1758  St. 
Peter's,  as  it  now  stands,  was  begun.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  the  minister  and  wardens  of  Christ  Church 
sent  a  petition  to  the  Bishop  of  London  asking  that 
young  Jacob  Duche,  then  at  Clare  Hall,  Cambridge, 
should  be  ordained  and  sent  to  his  native  parish,  where, 
in  consequence  of  a  growing  congregation  and  a  new 
church,  he  was  much  needed.  Long  and  weai-isome 
were  the  correspondences  between  the  colonial  churches 
and  the  Bishop  of  London,  and  not  unfrequent  were 
their  misunderstandings.  The  Church  of  England  would 
not  consent  to  give  America  a  resident  bishop,  and  an 
American  candidate  for  holy  orders  sometimes  had  to 
cross  the  ocean  twice,  once  to  be  ordained  deacon  and 
afterward  priest.  The  Bishop  of  London  appointed 
ministers  to  the  various  churches,  and  exercised  a  gene- 
ral episcopal  supervision  over  them,  without  a  personal 
acquaintance  with  their  needs,  and  it  was  this  reliance 
on  the  English  Church  which  in  after  years  gave  color 
to  the  charge  of  disloyalty  during  the  Revolution.  But 
at  this  time  all  went  smoothly,  and  Mr.  Duche  came 
home  ordained  deacon  and  licensed  to  preach  in  Phila- 


94  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

delphia.  The  two  churches  were  very  closely  united. 
They  had  the  same  vestry  and  the  same  ministers.  The 
pew  rents  were  equal,  and  their  ir^terests  were  in  every 
way  identical. 

And  so,  the  new  building  being  finished,  on  the 
fourth  of  September,  17(31,  the  people  met  at  Christ 
Church  anil  went  in  procession  down  to  St.  Peter's — . 
clerk  and  sexton  at  the  head,  then  the  questmen  and  then 
the  vestry,  two  by  two  ;  the  Governor  and  the  wardens, 
the  officiating  clergymen,  the  Governor's  council  and  at- 
tendants, and,  finally,  all  attending  clergymen.  The 
youngest  minister,  our  "Caspipina,"  read  all  the  ser- 
vice, except  the  absolution  ;  there  was  a  baptism  at  the 
font,  and  Dr.  Smith,  provost  of  what  is  now  the  Uni- 
versity of  Pennsylvania,  preached  the  sermon. 

It  is  not  difficult  even  now  to  picture  this  service. 
The  old  dignitaries,  with  queues  and  ruffles  are  all  gone, 
but  the  high  pews,  the  stone  aisles,  the  pulpit  with  its 
sounding  board,  the  green  and  grassy  churchyard  still 
I'emain,  and  St.  Peter's  is,  in  effect,  to-day  what  it  was 
over  a  hundred  years  ago,  when  Governor  Penn  had  his 
pew  in  the  south  gallery,  and  Benjamin  Franklin  came 
jvith  other  worshippers  from  the  Mother  church. 

After  a  few  years  had  passed  it  happened  that  one  of 
the  two  assistants,  Mr.  Sturgeon,  resigned,  and  all  the 
duties  of  the  large  parish  fell  on  the  rector.  Dr.  Peters, 
and  Mr.  Duche,  and  they  felt  a  great  desire  to  have  Mr. 
Coombe  and  young  William  White  appointed  as  assist- 
ants.    The  vestry  was  willing,  but  it  had  cost  heavily 


^l^aA! 


ST.   PETER'S— THE  PULPIT   FROM   WASHINGTON'S  PEW. 


"CASPTPIXAr 


to  build  St.  Peter's,  and  the  revenues  were  not  large. 
It  was  discussed,  back  and  forth,  and  tinally,  the  rector, 
who  had  a  private  fortune,  oftered  to  pay  each  of  the 
young  men  one  hundred  pounds,  and,  thus  assisted,  the 
vestry  offered  Mr.  Coorabe  two  hundred  pounds — which, 
by  the  way,  enabled  him  to  many — and  to  Mr.  White, 
with  many  compliments  for  his  generous  desire  not  to 
tax  the  income  of  the  parish,  they  offered  one  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds.  And  thus,  in  1772,  William  White — 
who,  as  a  little  boy,  used  to  tie  an  apron  around  his 
neck  for  a  gown,  and  with  a  chair  for  a  pulpit,  would 
preach  to  his  little  Quaker  neighbor — entered  on  his 
lono-  and  beautiful  connection  with  the  churches. 

When  177G  came  the  political  excitement  was  general, 
and  the  churches  were  full  of  it.  Dr.  Peters  had  grown 
old  and  weak ;  Mr.  Duche  had  succeeded  him,  with 
Messrs.  Coombe  and  White  as  his  assistants.  When 
Congress  set  May  17th  aside  as  a  day  of  fasting  and 
prayer,  there  was  service  in  both  churches  and  fervent 
sermons  were  preached.  Then  came  the  Fourth  of  July, 
and  it  was  then  the  vestry  met  and  struck  the  name 
of  the  King  from  the  liturgy,  and  took  down  his  portrait 
from  the  wall.  Mr.  Duche  had  acted  as  chaplain  to  Con- 
gress, and  his  people  were  full  of  patriotism. 

As  the  war  went  on,  the  Episcopal  Church,  how- 
ever, began  to  realize  its  peculiar  connection  with  the 
English  government,  a  connection  that  no  Declaration 
of  Independence  had  yet  severed.  The  long  and  per- 
sistent refusal  of  the  English  Church  to  give  the  Araeri- 


98  A  SYLVAN'  CITY. 

cans  a  l3Jshop  complicated  matters  and  divided  alle- 
giance. It  was  not  a  question  of  Church  and  State,  for 
this  had  been  tacitly  settled  long  before,  and  in  a  few 
colonies  only  was  there  a  State  tax  to  support  the 
churches.  This  was  a  far  more  vital  question,  and  struck 
at  the  ju-inciple  of  existence  as  an  Ejiiscopal  Church. 
Without  a  Bishop  there  could  be  no  organization,  no  or- 
dination of  priest  or  deacon,  and  so,  in  time,  no  admin- 
istration of  the  services  and  sacraments  of  the  Church. 
If  Americans  now  could  have  gone  to  England  for  or- 
dination it  would  have  been  refused  to  them  as  rebels, 
and  if,  on  the  other  hand,  they  had  confessed  themselves 
loyal,  the  American  congregations  would  have  repudi- 
ated them.  For  these  reasons,  the  clergy  found  them- 
selves in  a  perplexing  position.  They  could  not  be  true 
to  the  Church  of  England,  of  which  they  were  still  mem- 
bers, and  to  their  country  also,  and  everywhere  there 
was  confusion  and  uncertainty.  Prayer  was  made  for 
Congress  in  one  parish  and  for  George  III  in  the  next. 
Some  of  the  clergy  received  their  salaries  from  England, 
and  in  the  South  there  were  efforts  made  to  seize  church 
property  and  revenues  on  the  ground  that  they  still 
belonged  to  England,  and  so  should  be  confiscated. 
Churches  were  closed,  because  the  ministers,  not  yet 
released  from  vows  of  allegiance,  preferred  silence  to 
action. 

In  1777  Mr.  Coombe  was  arrested  for  disloyalty,  and 
sent  away  with  other  prisoners,  but  he  seems  to  have 
made  his  peace,  as  he  was  left  in  charge  while   Mr. 


>;^ 


'v 


\^^ 


jr^r 


CHRIST    CHURCH    FROM    THE   KAST. 


''caspipina:'  loi 


Duche  went  to  England  to  meet  charges  of  disloyalty 
from  the  other  side.  Mr.  Duche's  position  was  rather 
singular.  He  had  started  out,  it  seems,  with  ardent 
patriotism,  and  was  glad  to  ofler  prayers  in  the  first 
meeting  of  Congress.  lu  the  first  fever,  he  hoped  and 
he  believed,  but  when  reverses  came  he  lost  heart,  and 
wrote  a  famous  letter  to  General  Washington,  advising 
him  to  come  to  terms  with  the  English  Government 
while  there  was  yet  time.  He  possibly  had  more  influ- 
ence over  Mr.  Coombe  than  over  Washington,  for  the 
former  soon  followed  him  to  England,  but  despondently 
enough,  and,  in  a  pathetic  letter  to  the  vestry,  said :  "  To 
go  into  voluntary  banishment  from  my  native  city, 
where  it  was  ever  my  first  pride  to  be  a  clergyman,  to 
quit  a  decent  competency  among  a  people  whom  I  affec- 
tionately respect  and  love,  and  launch  out  upon  the 
ocean  of  the  world,  is  a  hard  trial  for  nature.  When  I 
consider  my  little  fomily  whom  I  leave  behind,  and  the 
difficulties  to  be  encountered  in  providing  them  a  heri- 
tage in  a  distant  country,  many  painful  ideas  crowd  into 
my  bosom.  ■"  Tiiese  wei-e  some  of  the  trials  of  the  Tory, 
who  had  to  choose  between  exile  and  hatred  and  con- 
tempt at  home. 

Thus,  Mr.  AYhite  was  left  the  only  patriot  out  of  the 
three  Philadelphians  !  That  he  still  loved  his  old  asso- 
ciates, however,  is  proved  by  his  making  the  condition, 
when  elected  rector  in  1779,  that  if  Mr.  Duche  re- 
turned, he  should  be  allowed  to  resign.  But,  although 
"Caspipina"  came  back  after  the  war  was  over,  he 


102  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

never  had  any  official  connection  witli  the  parish  again, 
but  Uved  in  the  fine  house  his  fatlier  had  built  for  him, 
and,  in  1798,  he  died  and  was  buried  by  his  wife  at  the 
east  end  of  St.  Peter's.  In  the  "middle  ayle  "  of  the 
church,  just  opposite  the  rector's  pew,  two  of  his  chil- 
dren are  buried. 

In  1777,  just  after  Mr.  Coombe  was  indicted,  the  Coun- 
cil ordered  seven  of  the  bells  belonging  to  Christ  Church 
and  the  two  at  St.  Peter's  taken  down  to  save  them 
from  the  enemy.  The  rector  and  vestry  were  much  op- 
posed to  this  measure.  The  bells,  they  were  sure,  were 
in  no  danger  from  the  British,  but  it  was  certain  that  if 
they  were  taken  down  it  would  not  be  easy  to  hang 
them  again.  The  Council  listened,  but  the  bells  came 
down,  and  one  story  says  were  sunk  in  the  Delaware, 
while  another  asserts  they  were  taken  to  Allentown, 
Pennsylvania.  In  good  time  all  this  was  done,  for  when 
the  British  came  they  tore  down  St.  Peter's  fence  for 
firewood  and  kept  none  of  their  promises  to  pay  for  it. 
The  brick  wall  now  around  the  churchyard  was  then 
built  to  replace  that  one. 

"When  the  Avar  closed  the  American  Church  was  in  a 
forlorn  condition,  and  an  entire  separation  from  Eng- 
land was  necessary,  but  first  an  American  bishop  had 
to  be  secured.  Dr.  Seabury,  of  Connecticut,  was  ac- 
cordingly sent  over  befoi-e  the  treaty  of  peace  was  signed, 
but  political  feeling  was  still  strong  enough  to  make  the 
English  bishops  refuse  to  consecrate  him,  so  he  went 
to  Scotland,  where  the  non-juring  bishops,  themselves 


''CASPIPINAr  105 


under  political  disabilities,  performed  the  ceremony. 
There  were  evident  reasons  why  this  consecration  was 
not  altogether  satisfactory,  and,  in  1786,  Dr.  White 
was  elected  Bishop  of  Pennsylvania,  and  going  to  Eng- 
land, Avas  consecrated  at  Lambeth,  and  among  the  cler- 
gj^men  present  again  appears  an  old  friend,  Mr.  Duche. 

In  the  meantime  a  convention  of  deputies  was  held  in 
Christ  Church  to  take  measures  for  the  organization  of 
the  church  through  the  country,  and  the  first  General 
Convention,  consisting  of  deputies  from  seven  of  tlie 
thirteen  States,  was  present.  During  all  these  days 
and  mouths  of  anxious  planning.  Dr.  White  lived  in  a 
house  at  Front  and  Lombard,  where  St.  Peter's  House 
now  stands,  and  here  all  the  preliminary  steps  toward 
organizing  the  American  Church  and  preparing  the 
prayer-book  were  taken. 

The  story  of  the  churches  is  now  one  of  progress.  St. 
James  was  built  on  Seventh  street ;  the  first  Sunday 
school  in  the  country  was  established.  Christ  Church 
Hospital,  founded  by  Dr.  Kearsley  in  1772,  as  a  home 
for  dependent  women,  members  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, was  in  operation.  There  were  slight  changes  in 
the  interior  of  the  churches,  such  as  moving  the  organ 
in  St.  Peter's,  the  presentation  of  fonts,  the  appro- 
priation of  a  pew  to  the  President,  and  in  1828  there 
began  to  be  a  discussion  concerning  the  separation  of 
the  three  churches.  The  youngest,  St.  James,  was  the 
first  to  go,  but  Christ  Church  and  St.  Peter's  clung 
together  some   years  longer,  until   the   union   of   the 


1J6  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

parishes  became  really  cumbersome,  and  in  1832  there 
was  a  formal  and  legal  separation  and  division  of  pro- 
perty, and  all  in  a  spirit  of  harmony  and  perfect  good- 
will, and  Avith  the  express  condition  that  Bishop  White 
should  remain  rector  of  the  three  parishes  as  long  as  he 
lived. 

In  183G  Bishop  White  (lied,  a  devout  man  and  a 
godly  preacher,  taking  with  liini  the  \o\e  of  all  who 
knew  him,  and  leaving  a  name  full  of  tender  memories. 
He  was  buried  at  Christ  Church,  in  his  family  vault, 
and  no  citizen  of  Philadelphia  ever  had  a  more  sincere 
or  more  truly  representative  body  of  mourners  at  his 
grave. 

Since  that  time  the  two  old  churches  have  had  days 
of  steady  prosperity.  They  have  taken  no  share  in  cui'- 
rent  questions  of  ritual  or  of  the  absence  of  it,  but,  hold- 
ing to  the  faith  of  their  fathers,  have  given  the  service 
according  to  the  prayer-book.  In  St.  Peter's,  the  rector 
of  which  is  the  Rev.  Thomas  P.  Davies,  D.  D. ,  daily  ser- 
vice, morning  and  evening,  has  been  held  for  very  many 
years,  and  the  parish  continues  one  of  the  strongest  and 
most  active  in  the  diocese. 

St.  Peter's  House,  at  the  corner  of  Front  and  Lom- 
bard, is  the  centre  of  much  of  the  active  work  in  the 
parish.  There  meet  the  Guild  for  Workingmen,  the 
Mutual  Aid  Societies,  the  schools  and  the  Bible  classes. 
There  is  a  saving  fund,  a  sewing  class  ;  pleasant  rooms, 
where  men  may  assemble,  smoke  and  play  certain 
games.      The   children   have   their   festivals,   and   the 


"CASPTPINAr  107 


mothers  their  cheery  meetings.  All  of  this  is  superin- 
tended by  members  of  tiae  church,  but  much  of  the  real 
work  lies  in  the  hands  of  those  who  are  to  be  benefited 
by  it.  It  is  their  own,  and  the  interest  they  take  in  it 
accounts  for  much  of  its  prosperity  and  vitality. 

And  so  the  two  old  churches  stand,  one  in  the  rush 
and  hurry  of  trade,  the  other  in  all  the  quiet  and  shade 
of  "Old  Philadelphia"  trees,  and  every  year  makes 
them  dearer  to  their  members.  In  Christ  Church  changes 
have  been  made,  and  in  an  evil  hour  it  was  "  improved," 
but  this  year  it  has  been  restored  to  something  of  its  old 
appearance.  In  St.  Peter's  the  high  old  pews,  the  pulpit 
in  the  air,  shadowed  by  the  great  sounding-board,  tell  of 
many  years  of  praise  and  prayer,  undisturbed  by  inno- 
vation, content  to  live  in  old  ways  and  in  the  quietness 
of  spirit  that  works  earnestly  and  without  the  friction 
of  change. 

Both  Christ  Church  and  St.  Peter's  have  endowment 
funds,  which  Avill  enaV)le  them,  for  many  a  long  year  to 
come,  to  keep  their  place  among  the  active  religious 
forces  of  the  city. 


If..     ••  '\\ 


OLD  SAINT  JOSEPH'S. 


AN  OLD  CONFES-:;? 
SIGNAL.  * 


ALNT  JOSEPH'S  is  the  oldest  Catho- 
lic Church  in  Philadelphia,  and 
is  one  of  those  buildings,  half 
ancient,  half  modern,  which  are 
of  lasting  interest  because  of  their 
association  Avith  Colonial  and  Re- 
volutionary times.  It  stands  in 
the  busiest  part  of  the  present 
business  quarter  of  the  city,  surrounded  by  the  oflices 
of  the  large  railroad  corporations,  which  are  essentially 
typical  of  modern  life.  Almost  all  the  other  old  land- 
marks in  the  neighborhood  have  disappeared.  The 
Friends'  Almshouse,  with  its  little  thatch-roofed  cot- 
tages, has  been  torn  down  to  make  room  for  rows  of 
neat  brick  offices,  while  the  grass-grown  graveyard 
where  the  Gabriel  of  Evangeline  was  buried,  according 
to  some  authorities,  has  been  replaced  by  well-laid, 
well-kept  flower-beds. 

"  How  changed  is  here  each  spot  man  makes  or  fills  !" 
Even  St.  Joseph's  bears  marks  of  the  enterprise  of  a 
growing  congregation,  and  a  mania  for  pulling  down 
and  building  up  which  inspired  Philadelphians  in  the 

109 


no  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

days  when  they  were  younger  and  not  so  wise.  Though 
occupying  the  ground  bought  by  its  founder,  the  pre- 
sent church  is  in  reality  the  fourth  of  the  name,  and  Avas 
built  in  1838.  Its  suggestion  of  age  is  due  as  much  to 
its  existence  in  such  incongruous  surroundings  as  to  the 
actual  number  of  its  years. 

Passing  down  "Willing's  alley,  between  the  tall  build- 
ings of  the  Reading  and  Pennsylvania  Railroads,  the 
wayfarer  comes  to  an  iron  gate,  which  might  be  supposed 
to  belong  to  the  latter  were  it  not  for  the  cross  which 
ornaments  it.  It  opens  into  an  archway,  not  unlike 
those  adjoining  old-fashioned  inns,  beyond  which  is  a 
large,  square,  paved  courtjard.  On  two  sides  of  this  is 
the  railroad  office,  at  whose  windows  busy  clerks  can  be 
seen  bending  over  their  books.  At  the  lower  end,  di- 
rectly opposite  the  gate,  is  the  church,  a  modest  brick 
building,  with  long-pointed  white  windows,  ivyless  and 
vineless,  and  destitute  of  decoration,  unless  a  marble 
bust  of  Father  Barbelin  and  a  tablet  to  his  memory  can 
be  so  called.  On  the  right  side  of  the  courtyard  is  the 
house  used  as  a  dwelling  by  the  priests  and  as  a  school. 
It  is,  like  the  church,  built  of  brick.  Its  doorway  has  a 
quaint  reminder  of  other  climes  and  earlier  ages  in  a 
little  peep-window  through  which  the  lay  brother  can 
inspect  all  visitors  before  opening  the  door  for  them. 
By  it  hangs  a  large  lamij,  which  throws  its  light  on 
those  who  call  after  dark.  These  precautions  are  neces- 
sary, the  brother  told  me  once,  for  desperate  charac- 
ters, within  whose  reach  he  would  not  trust  himself  alone, 


(.AT  E\\  AY   OF   ST.    .i^    -Kl  H 


OLD  SAINT  JOSEPH'S. 


113 


OLD   LAMP,    ST.   JOSEPH'S. 


sometimes  come  there.  His 
words  were  an  echo  of  me- 
difevaUsm,  and  conjured  up 
pictures  of  daring  outlaws 
fiercely  knocking  at  the  gates 
of  the  monastery  the}'  meant 
to  pillage. 

The  interior  of  the  build- 
ing is  as  barren  to  the  curi- 
osity seeker  as  the  exterior. 
Three  rooms  of  the  original 
house  remain,  but  they  have 
been   thoroughly   renovated. 

One  or  two  quaint  fireplaces  have  been  preserved,  but 
they  are  in  upper  rooms,  into  which  none  but  the 
initiated  can  enter.  The  place  is,  as  Heine  says,  "  old 
without  antiquity."  There  is  here,  however,  one  ob- 
ject which  is  of  interest  to  all  lovers  of  art  or  of  Phila- 
delphia. This  is  the  first  large  and  important  picture 
painted  by  Benjamin  West,  and  presented  by  him  to 
the  Jesuits  at  Conshohocken.  It  represents  a  woman 
in  the  conventional  Scriptural  dress  giving  a  child  a 
drink  from  a  little  bowl,  while  an  old  man  stands  be- 
hind her  and  an  angel  hovers  near  the  child.  As  this 
group  was  supposed  to  l)e  the  Holy  Family,  the  picture 
was  once  hung  over  the  main  altar,  where  it  remained 
for  many  years.  But  one  day  it  was  discovered — his- 
tory has  not  recorded  how — that  the  artist  had  intended 
to  commemorate  in  it  the  adventures  of  Hagar  and  Ish- 


114  A  sylvaj:^  city. 


mael  in  the  desert,  and  so  it  was  removed  as  inappro- 
priate to  so  conspicuous  a  position.  It  then  became  the 
property  of  the  Jesuits  at  St.  Joseph's,  and  a  few  years 
ago,  the  figures  having  become  indistinguishable,  it  was 
cleaned. 

The  first  colonists  of  Pennsylvania  respected  freedom 
in  religion.     Had  Penn  been  alone  in  their  government 
the  individual's  right  to  choose  for  himself  in  spiritual 
matters  would  never  have  been  interfered  with.     But 
he  and  they  were  under  British  rule,  and  England  was 
then  bitterly  intolerant  where  the  Church  of  Kome  was 
concerned.     At  first  there  were  but  few  Catholics  in 
Philadelphia,  and  these  few  conducted  their  ceremonies 
quietly  and  unobtrusively.     Kumor  occasionally  busied 
itself  with  stories  of  mass-houses^  and  allusions  were 
made  to  the  presence  of  an  old  priest  in  the  city.  Work- 
men in  passing  a  certain  house  at  the  corner  of  Walnut 
and  Front   streets  had  perhaps  been  seen  taking  off 
their  hats  and  making  the  genuflexions  Cathohcs  prac- 
ticed in  saluting  their  sacred  altars.     Already,  in  1708, 
Penn,  writing  from    England  to  James   Logan,  said  : 
"With  these  is  a  complaint  against  your  government 
that  you  suffer  public  mass  in  a  scandalous  manner ; 
pray  send  the  matter  of  fixct,  for  ill  use  of  it  is  made 
asainst  us  here."    But  no  definite  measures  were  taken, 
and  so  long  as  their  practices  were  not  too  "scandal- 
ous" Cathohcs  were  unmolested.     Their  number  in- 
creased under  this  liberal  rule  until  their  brethren  in  the 
Catholic  colony  of  Maryland  thought  the  time  had  come 


DOORWAY  Ol'  TUE  rATHEKS'  HOUSE. 


OLD  SAINT  JOSEPH'S:  117 

to  give  them  a  priest  of  their  own.  In  1732  Father 
Greaton,  a  Jesuit,  was  sent  from  Baltimore  to  establish 
a  church  and  attend  to  the  spiritual  wants  of  the  faithful. 
The  settlement  of  a  priest  in  Philadelphia  was  attended 
by  at  least  a  chance  of  danger.  The  Sons  of  St.  Igna- 
tius and  St.  Francis  Xavier  are  not,  however,  men  to 
be  frightened  by  difficulties.  But  they  are  cautious  as 
well  as  daring,  and  wise  in  their  generation.  Father 
Gi-eaton,  on  arriving  in  the  City  of  Quakers,  borrowed 
the  Quaker  garb.  It  was  not  long  before  he  changed  it 
for  his  own  black  robes  ;  but  when  he  built  his  church, 
which  he  called  St.  Joseph's,  he  made  it  accord  as  far 
as  was  possible  with  the  Quaker  style  of  architecture. 
Its  survival  of  the  fittest  depended  principally  upon  the 
manner  in  which  he  succeeded  in  making  a  fit,  or  in  not 
attracting  public  attention.  If  it  resembled  closely  the 
Friends'  Almshouse,  by  which  it  stood,  there  was  so 
much  the  less  probability  of  its  evoking  the  Quakers' 
objection  to  display  and  ornament. 

This  was  in  1733.  In  the  following  year  it  began  to 
excite  comment.  A  chapel  with  its  own  pastor  and 
regular  congregation  cpuld  not  pass  unnoticed,  when, 
up  to  the  time  of  its  establishment,  even  the  casual 
presence  of  a  priest  had  been  subject  of  remark.  Father 
Greaton's  proceedings  were  referred  to  the  Provincial 
Council  and  were  carefully  discussed  at  two  meetings. 
The  debaters,  of  whom  Thomas  Penn  was  one,  could 
not  decide  whether,  according  to  Colonial  laws,  Catholic 
celebrations  were  to  be  countenanced,  or,  following  the 


118  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


statutes  of  William  III,  were  to  be  prohibited.  In- 
crease of  liberality  appears  in  the  fact  that  no  practical 
steps  in  either  direction  were  taken  after  these  de- 
bates— the  matter  Avas  allowed  to  rest,  and  Father 
Greaton  continued  his  work  undisturbed.  "  The  abbot 
dines  off  his  singing,"  says  the  Spanish  proverb,  but 
in  Father  Greaton's  case  it  brought  him  very  poor  fare. 
The  first  priests  in  Philadelphia  had  nothing  but  their 
name  in  common  with  the  monks  of  Melrose  or  of  Wey. 
They  were  not  makers  of  "gude  kale"  or  "jolly  old 
boys,"  but  hard-working  men  to  whom  a  task  had  been 
intrusted  and  who  could  not  rest  until  they  had  com- 
pleted it.  As  proof  of  their  zeal  and  devotion  we  find 
that  in  1747,  only  fourteen  years  after  its  foundation, 
the  church  was  considerably  enlarged  and  so  much  im- 
proved that  Kalm,  the  Swedish  traveler,  described  it 
as  a  "great  house,  which  is  well  adorned  within  and 
has  an  organ."  The  adornments  could  not  have  been 
very  valuable  or  expensive,  for  the  congregation  was 
poor,  their  poverty,  indeed,  being  one  of  the  reasons 
which  prevented  the  accumulation  of  treasures  usually 
found  in  Catholic  churches  of  a  century's  growth. 

The  old  prejudice  against  Romanists  did  not  perish 
with  their  increasing  numbers.  The  people  had  not  yet 
outlived  the  fear  of  Gunpowder  plots  and  Smithfield 
fires.  During  the  Revolution  it  was  generally  supposed 
that  the  Painsts  rejoiced  when  they  heard  bad  news 
from  the  Revolutionary  armies.  But  this  supposition 
was  based  entirely  on  fancy.     Catholics  now  boast  that 


OLD  SAINT  JOSEPH'S.  121 

among  them  "  there  was  not  one  Tory,  not  one  false  to 
his  country/'  While  bigotry  lived  on  with  the  people, 
it  disappeared  from  official  circles.  The  latent  liberality 
of  Penn's  successors  was  developed  by  external  influ- 
ences, America's  truest  friends  during  her  struggle 
with  England  came  from  Catholic  countries.  French- 
men and  Spaniards  brought  with  them  their  chaplains 
who  celebrated  mass  in  the  city  churches,  and  congress- 
men and  officers  assisted  at  their  services  as  a  mark  of 
respect.  It  is  boasted  by  those  who  love  St.  Joseph's 
that  Lafayette,  the  Counts  de  Rochambeau  and  De  la 
Grasse,  and  all  the  gallant  French  officers  who  fought 
for  us,  have  stood  within  its  walls.  When  the  war  was 
over  a  Te  Deum  of  thanksgiving  was  sung  there  by  the 
request  of  the  Marquis  of  Luzerne,  and  there  is  a  tra- 
dition that  at  this  ceremony  Lafayette  and  Washington 
were  both  present.     • 

This  church  of  the  Jesuits  is  the  root  from  which 
sprang  many  others.  When  its  congregation  became 
too  large  for  its  quarters,  St.  Mary's,  St.  Augustine's  and 
the  Holy  Trinity  were  successively  built.  All  three 
play  a  more  active,  animated  part  in  historical  records 
than  St.  Joseph's.  It  was  at  St.  Mary's,  on  Fourth  Street, 
that  the  first  schism  in  the  Philadelphia  diocese  occurred. 
There  was  a  long  dispute  between  the  trustees  of  the 
church  and  the  Bishop  about  its  priest.  Father  Hogan. 
Party  feeling  waxed  warmer  and  stronger  until  the  con- 
test passed  from  words  to  blows.  There  were  riots  in 
which  blood  was  shed.    The  Schismatics  finally  won  the 


122  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

day,  and  Father  Hogan,  though  excommunicated,  re- 
mained in  possession.  The  CathoUcs  of  Philadelphia 
bade  fair  to  repeat  the  warfare  that  of  old  disgraced  the 
Church  in  Rome  and  Constantinople.  All  this  hap- 
pened, however,  when  the  local  church  was  in  its  early 
youth.  Now  it  is  as  peaceful  and  silent  as  St.  Joseph 
himself  could  wish.  The  grass  in  the  graveyard  grows 
tall  and  wild,  the  graves  are  half-beaten  down,  and 
the  gravestones  look  as  if,  at  a  touch,  they  might 
fall.  This  scene  of  neglect  and  decay  is  not  without  its 
historical  interest.  Commodore  Barry,  the  "  Father  of 
the  American  J^'avy,"  and  of  Revolutionary  fame,  is 
buried  there,  and  not  far  from  him  lies  Commodore 
Meade,  a  later  and  equally  gallant  officer. 

When  forced  from  St.  Mary's  the  Bishop  took  refuge 
at  St.  Joseph's  and  made  it  his  Cathedral.  Seldom  ac- 
tively connected  with  the  disorders  in  the  diocese,  this 
church,  more  than  once,  became  the  refuge  of  those 
upon  whom  the  burden  fell.  During  the  anti-Catholic 
riots  of  1844,  when  Protestants  declared  that  the  enemy 
was  preparing  a  new  Saint  Bartholomew  ;  when  houses 
with  their  owners  still  in  them  were  burned  to  ashes ; 
when  St.  Augustine's  burned  to  the  music  of  the  peo- 
ples' huzzahs  and  Orange  airs  played  on  fife  and  drum 
— even  then  St.  Joseph's  escaped  unscathed.  But  the 
annals  of  those  troubled  times  have  recorded  that  it 
opened  its  doors  to  the  priest  and  congregation  of  the 
destroyed  churches,  and  that  the  Jesuits  left  them  in 
full  possessiop  at  certain  hours,  so  that  at  mass  and 


;■'  '\'fm 


■^!ii<^-)j;,ii;itf^ti->,: 


--*ii^ 


UiumSJ.-x 


OLD  SAINT  JOSEPH'S. 


125 


vespers  it  might  seem  as  if  they  were  still  in  their  own 
churches. 

The  Holy  Trinity,  which  "looks  like  a  coffin,"  as  I 
have  heard  it  described,  is  the  last  building  in  Philadel- 
phia in  which  the  red  and  black  bricks,  once  so  common, 
were  used.  Attached  to  it  is  a  graveyard,  whose  time- 
worn  tombstones  bear  old  French  and  Spanish  names, 
recalling  the  days  when  the  City  of  Brotherly  Love  wel- 
comed the  San  Domingo  refugees.  Here,  too,  Stephen 
Girard  lay  buried  for  many  years  before  his  body  was 
removed  to  the  college  grounds.  In  one  shady  corner 
there  is  a  slab,  which  covers  the  entrance  to  the  vault 
belonging  to  the  Sisters  of  Saint  Joseph,  and  which  is 
sacred  to  the  memory  of  Sisters  Camilla,  Petronilla, 
Anastasia  and  many  other  good  Sis- 
ters who  have  been  long  since  forgot- 
ten. Even  now,  this  reminder  of  them 
would  be  unnoticed  did  not  legend 
declare  that  here  among  her  Sisters  of 


126  A  SYLVAJf  CITY. 

the  Church  reposes  Evangelme.  And  so  ends  the  pretty 
romance.  The  lover  is  laid  in  a  pauper's  grave,  while 
the  beloved  dies  to  the  world  when  she  clothes  herself  in 
religious  robe'*  and  becomes  only  a  Sister  Camilla  or 
Petronilla  with  the  rest.  This  church,  like  St.  Mary's, 
was  the  cause  of  schisms  and  clerical  quarrels.  Trus- 
tees and  Bishops  could  not  agree,  and  there  followed 
"teri-ible  times,"  as  a  good  priest  naively  expresses  it. 

There  has  been  a  great  change  of  feeling  in  regard  to 
Catholics  since  1844.  The  old  spirit  of  opposition  was 
very  bitter.  The  Hindoos  say  that  whether  the  knife 
fall  on  the  melon,  or  the  melon  on  the  knife,  the  melon 
suffers  equally.  And  so  it  was  with  the  Catholics. 
Whether  they  or  the  Protestants  were  at  fault,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  they  paid  the  penalty.  Once  the  very  sugges- 
tion of  building  houses  for  monks  and  nuns  Avas  like 
applying  lighted  kindling-wood  to  well-laid  logs,  and 
hurried  into  riotous  outbreaks  those  who  only  waited 
the  opportunity.  But  now,  monasteries  and  convents 
stand  in  our  principal  streets  and  occupy  the  loveliest 
sites  in  our  suburbs.  Instead  of  the  rumored  inass- 
houses,  there  are  handsome  cathedrals  and  churches, 
with  their  seminaries,  schools  and  asylums.  The  Catho- 
lic population  is  very  large  and  devout,  as  any  one  at- 
tending early  mass  at  St.  Patrick's  or  St.  Joseph's  can 
testify,  but  it  does  not  constitute  a  distinct  element  in 
itself,  and  this  is  creditable  to  both  Protestants  and 
Catholics.  The  Uberality  of  Penn,  fostered  by  a  grow- 
ing spirit  of  toleration,  has  done  its  work.     The  days 


OLD  SAINT  JOSEPH'S.  127 

have  gone  when  a  Presbj-terian  or  Catholic  would  only 
buy  his  butter  or  clothes  from  Presbyterian  or  Catholic 
farmers  and   tradesmen.       Socially,   Catholics  are  as 
widely  apart  as   the  people  belonging  to  other  sects. 
On  political  questions,  too,  they  are  divided,  and  arc 
very  far  from  forming  a  "solid  Catholic  Church"  party. 
But  on  the  subject  of  education  they  do  stand  aloof  from 
their   fellow-citizens.      Their  objection  to  the  public 
school  sj'stem  is  as  strong  now  as  it  was  in  the  days 
when  it  gave  rise  to  riots,  but  they,  having  grown  in 
power  and  wealth,  are  better  able  to  meet  the  difficulty. 
The  Church  disapproves  of  purely  secular  education, 
and  requires  that  science  and  art  be  taught  in  accord- 
ance with  her  doctrines.     The  age  demands  good  and 
thorough   education  :  ergo^  to  keep  up  with  the  age, 
Catholics  must  supply  it.     Their  eflbrts  to  do  this  have 
had  some  good  results.     Parochial  schools,  which  were 
in  a  sad  condition,  are  improving.     Sisters  of  Mercy 
have  been  sent  to  the  Normal   School,    so   that  they 
might  learn  how  to  teach  their  pupils  after  the  most 
approved  manner.  These  efforts,  it  is  true,  make  no  pro- 
vision for  the  higher  education  of  children  whose  parents 
cannot  afford  or  are  not  willing,  after  paying  their  taxes, 
to  send  them  to  private  schools.  But  this  want  has  been 
partly  obviated  by  the  measures  of  the  late  Mr.  Thomas 
E.  Cahill.     At  his  death  he  left  the  greater  part  of  his 
fortune  for  the  purpose  of  establishing  a  Catholic  High 
School  for  boys  over  eleven  years  of  age,  who  are  to  be 
selected  first  from  the  parish  schools  and  then,  if  there 


128 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


remain  vacancies,  from  the  public  schools.  It  is  to  be 
called  the  Roman  Catholic  High  School  of  Pliiladel- 
phia.  The  fact  is  significant.  The  Catholic  million- 
aire of  1878  devoting  a  fortune  to  the  furtherance  of 
Catholic  education,  presents  a  strong  contrast  to  the 
solitary  priest  in  Quaker  disguise  of  1732. 


.13E5"TRGY£©IS^'^-, 


^'^-  \ 


THE  OLD  PHILADELPHIA  LIBRARY.* 


Wo 


^srs^^N  olden  days  a  private 
library  was  a  most  com- 
fortable possession,  be- 
cause it  was  one  of  the 
few  things  which  a  man 
could  bring  to  a  given 
point  and  then  regard  as 
finished.  As  late  as  1731, 
when  in  Philadelphia  the 
first  circulating  library 
which  is  on  record  was 
founded,  no  one  dreamed 
of  keeping  up  with  cur- 
rent literature.  Addison 
was  dead,  and  the  Tattler  and  Spectator  had  become  clas- 
sics ;  Pope's  feeble  yet  resolute  fingers  were  moulding 
English  literature  into  rigid  forms ;  Goldsmith  was  a 
schoolboy,  and  Johnson  an  usher.  Everybody  read,  and 
a  few  bought,  but  the  scholar  of  elegant  tastes  would 
have  thought  Emerson's  rule,  never  to  read  a  book  until 
it  is  a  year  old,  absurdly  enterprising.  He  was  content 
to  pore  over  the  Horace  he  had  inherited  from  his  father, 
*  See  Introduction.  * 

129 


MINERVA    IN    THE    LIBRARY 


130 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


and,  if  he  made  a  new  reading,  he  congratulated  himself 
upon  his  originality.  If,  in  his  stately  correspondence, 
he  wished  to  quote,  he  preferred  an  author  who  reflected 
credit  on  his  erudition  to  any  one  not  yet  indorsed  by  the 
learned.  If  he  wished  to  consult  authorities  he  could 
possibly  get  a  permit  to  enter  one  of  the  great  libraries, 
but  he  did  not  buy  a  volume  simply  for  reference,  and  no 
one  was  mad  enough  to  dream  of  circulating  either 
books  or  crown  jewels.  Both  were  kept  in  their  cases. 
Such  young  men  as  Johnson  and  Franklin  might  hire  a 
volume  from  a  bookseller,  but  it  was  not  usual,  and  such 
a  happy  accident  as  the  one  that  sent  the  news  to  Gov- 
ernor Burnet,  of  a  young  man  named  Franklin  who  was 


THE   OLD    BUILDING. 


THE  OLD  PHILADELPHIA  LIBRARY.        131 


THE    NEW    BUILDING. 


in  a  sloop  at  the  New  York  wharf  with  some  books, 
did  not  often  happen. 

This  was  in  1724,  when  Franklin  was  going  back  from 
Philadelphia  to  Boston,  and  just  six  years  before  he 
founded  tlie  "Junto"  Club,  This  fermenting  little 
power  in  Pliiladelphia  liistory  was  organized  in  a  small 
ale-house  to  discuss  such  subjects  as  morals,  politics  and 
natural  philosophy,  but  it  was  highly  practical,  and, 
while  it  studied  up  Roman  civilization,  it  kept  a  keen 
lookout  on  Philadelphia  interests.  It  told  "new  and 
agreeable  stories,"  and  when  they  heard  of  a  failure  in 
business  the  members  sought  after  the  causes.  They 
discussed  the  successful  man  and  his  meth(?ds,  and  were 
particular  to  applaud  the  citizen  who  was  said  to  have 


132  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

done  something  creditable.  They  made  a  note  of  "young 
beginners  lately  set  up,"  and  decided  upon  the  best  way 
of  helping  them.  If  the  character  of  a  member  was 
assailed  his  fellows  came  to  his  defense,  and  they  aided 
each  other  in  establishing  advantageous  friendships. 
They  made  themselves  acquainted  with  every  deserving 
stranger  who  came  to  town  and  asked  if  they  could  be 
of  use  to  him.  Never  was  there  a  more  practical  and 
keener  little  company,  and  the  Philadelphia  Library, 
the  Philosophical  Society,  the  University  of  Pennsylva- 
nia and  the  Pennsylvania  Hospital  are  among  its  many 
direct  descendants.  The  animating  soul  in  all  of  this 
was  the  suggestive  Franklin.  He  was  always  full  of 
plans  and  busy  about  the  best  way  of  carrying  them 
out.  He  drew  up  the  rules  for  the  club,  and  it  grew  to 
be  like  him.  One  day  the  idea  of  a  common  library 
came  to  him.  Each  member  owned  books  which  were 
constantly  being  borrowed  by  the  others,  and  Pranklin's 
plan  was  to  put  them  all  together  in  the  club-room,  where 
they  would  be  easy  of  access  for  reference  during  the 
meetings,  and  each  member  could  have  the  use  of  the 
whole  collection.  The  club  had  by  this  time  moved  to 
the  house  of  Robert  Grace,  who  is  immortalized  in 
Philadelphia  annals  by  Franklin's  terse  description  of 
him  as  "  a  young  gentleman  of  some  fortune  ;  generous, 
lively  and  witty  ;  a  lover  of  punning  and  of  his  friends," 
and  so  Franklin's  plan  being  agreed  to,  each  of  the  mem- 
bers gathered  up  his  great  folios  and  quartos,  his  chap- 
books,  and  all  his  literary  treasures,  and  carried  them  to 


THE  OLD  PHILADELPHIA  LIBRARY. 


135 


Crrace's  house  ou  High,  or  Market  Street,  above  Second, 
just  opposite  the  Court-house.  For  fear  of  disturbing 
the  family,  they  went  up  Pewter-plate  Alley,  through  an 
archway,  to  the  room  over  the  kitclR'n,  where  they  met, 
and  great  was  the  satisfaction  with  which  this  fine  show 
of  books,  which  filled  one  end  of  the  room,  was  viewed. 
At  the  end  of  the  year,  however,  many  of  the  mem- 
bers pronounced  this  experiment  of  a  library  in  common 
No  librarian  had  been  appointed  ;  no 
Ijeen  responsible  for  the  books  ;  some 
taken  aAvay  and  not  returned  ;  some 
and  to  pi-event  farther  loss,  each  man 
took  up  his  books  and 


a  failure, 
one  had 
had  been 
were  torn, 


through  Pewter-plate 
Alley  marched  home 
again. 

But  Franklin  never 
let  go  of  an  idea  that 
pleased  him.  He  had 
tested  the  circulating 
library  and  he  believed 
the  experiment  would 
be  feasible  and  profit- 
able, so  his  busy  mind 
occupied  itself  in  devis- 
iui;  a  l)etter  foundation 
tliuu  unorganized  asso- 
ciation.     He     decided 


THE  OLD    LAXTEKX. 


that,  if  he  could  get  a 


136  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

number  of  people  to  each  subscribe  fifty  shillings  as  a 
purchasing  fund,  and  then  add  an  annual  subscription 
of  ten,  he  could  make  a  fair  beginning. 

He  at  once  began  to  act  upon  this  scheme,  and  so  in- 
augurated— little  as  he  suspected  it ! — the  great  dis- 
covery of  his  life — the  discovery  of  the  Public  Circulat- 
ing Library  !  He  says  in  his  little  account  of  the  enter- 
prise that  this  library  gave  rise  to  others  all  over  the 
country,  and  together  they  "  have  improved  the  general 
conversation  of  the  Americans,  made  the  common 
tradesmen  and  farmers  as  intelligent  as  most  gentlemen 
from  other  countries,  and  perhaps  have  contributed  in 
some  degree  to  the  stand  so  generally  taken  throughout 
the  colonies  in  defense  of  their  privileges." 

To  what  the  circulating  library  was  to  grow,  and  what 
share  it  was  to  take  in  the  education  and  entertainment 
of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  even  its  founder's  sanguine 
fancy  could  not  foresee  1 

At  this  time  Franklin  was  about  twenty-five  years 
old,  and,  although  well  known  as  an  industrious  and 
enterprising  young  man,  he  could  not  have  been  an 
important  citizen.  He  lived  humbly  enough,  and,  in 
addition  to  his  printing  office,  he  had  a  little  shop  where 
he  sold  stationery,  and  which  his  wife  attended.  He 
ate  his  bread  and  milk  with  a  pewter  spoon  out  of  a  por- 
ringer ;  he  wore  a  leather  apron  ;  he  trundled  his  goods 
home  in  a  wheelbarrow,  and  when  he  worked  at  night 
he  was  shrewd  enough  to  put  his  light  in  the  window, 
and  not  under  a  bushel,  so  all  the  neighbors  saw  it,  and 


THE  OLD  PHILADELPHIA  LIBRARY. 


137 


said  he  was  in- 
dustrious and 
must  be  getting 
on ;  and  as  no- 
thing succeeds 
like  success,  his 
advertising  can- 
dle was  a  brilliant 
help. 

He  had  the  pro- 
posal for  his  li- 
brary put  into 
legal  form  by  the 
conveyancer, 
Charles  Brock- 
den  ;  it  was  made 
good  for  fifty 
years,  and  he 
then  set  out  to 
find  subscribers. 
He  says  :  "  I  put 
myself  as  much 
as  I  could  out  of 
sight  and  stated 
it  as  the  scheme 
of  a  number  of 
friends  who  had 
requested  me  to  vems,  from  the  rush  colivEction. 
go  about  and  propose  it  to  such  as  they  thought  lovers 
of  reading." 


138  A  SYLVAJ!^  CITY. 


In  spite  of  this  little  prevarication,  upon  which  the 
author  congratulated  himself,  thinking  it  a  proof  of  his 
want  of  vanity,  the  "lovers  of  reading"  in  the  upper 
classes  were  hard  to  persuade,  and  when  at  last  he  ob- 
tained fifty  subscribers,  with  Robert  Grace's  name  lead- 
ing the  list  and  his  own  second  in  order,  they  were 
nearly  all  young  men  of  his  own  rank.    The  Rev.  Jacob 
Duche,  of  Christ  Church  memory,  who  joined  the  com- 
pany in  1732,  says  in  his  "  Caspipina  ''  letters  that  "  the 
librarian  informs  me  that  for  one  person  of  distinction 
and  fortune    there  were  twenty  tradesmen  who  fre- 
quented this  library. ' '    This  was  in  1771,  and  shows  how 
strongly  the  working-classes  still  appreciated  the  advan- 
tages which  their  fellow-craftsman  had  obtained  for  them. 
When  at  last  the  treasurer  had  forty  pounds  in  his 
possession,  James  Logan,  "  the  best  judge  of  books  in 
these  parts,"  was  consulted,  a  list  made  out,  and  Peter 
Collinson,  one  of  the  managers  who  was  just  going  to 
England,  undertook  buying  the  books.     This  was  in 
March,   1732,  and  all   summer   the   new   stockholders 
looked  forward  with  impatience  to  October,  and,  when 
it  came,  bringing  the  books,  they  were  delighted  to  find 
that  Mr.  Collinson  had  added  Newton's  "Principia"  and 
"The  Gardener's  Dictionary"  as  a  present. 

The  books  were  placed  on  the  shelves  in  the  "  Junto  " 
room,  still  in  Grace's  house,  a  librarian  chosen,  and 
the  hbrary  was  open  to  the  public.  It  was  surpris- 
ingly liberal  in  its  offers.  It  did  not  limit  its  advan- 
tages to  subscribers,  but  offered  the  use  of  the  books  in 


o 

o 

l-H 

> 


63 


THE  OLD  PHILADELPAIA  LIBRARY. 


141 


REQUEST  BOX  IN  USE  SINCE  THE  FOUN- 
DATION OF  THE  LIBKAKY. 


the  room  to  any  "civil 
person,"  and,  if  he  de- 
posited the  value  of  a 
volume  and  added  a 
small  sum  for  its  use, 
he  could  take  it  home. 
Nearly  all  the  books 
now  on  the  shelves 
were  in  English,  few 
of  the  subscribers  be- 
ing classical  scholars, 
and  all  of  them  too  prac- 
tical to  care  for  books 
they  could  not  read. 
This  idea  of  utility  has  governed  the  purchases  of  the 
hbrary  through  the  entire  hundred  and  fifty  years  of 
its  existence,  so  that  it  has  never  "padded"  its 
shelves.  Mr.  Lloyd  P.  Smith,  who  for  years  has  been 
the  faithful  and  competent  librarian  of  the  now  con- 
solidated libraries — the  Philadelphia,  the  Logan  and 
the  Kidgway — speaks  with  knowledge  when  he  says  in 
one  of  his  papers :  "  Compared  to  the  libraries  of 
Europe  and  America,  sustained  by  government  or 
municipal  appropriation,  the  Philadelphia  Library  is 
not  large,  but  its  hundred  and  thirty  thousand  books 
are  well  chosen.  It  does  not  possess  that  immense 
number  of  volumes  of  polemic  divinity,  which,  dui'ing 
so  many  centuries,  helped  to  deluge  Europe  with  blood, 
nor  the  enormous  mass  of  commentaries  on  the  civil 


142  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

law  that  appeared  after  the  discovery  of  the  Pandects 
at  Amalfi.  It  contains  but  few  specimens  of  controver- 
sial writings  between  the  nominalist??  and  realists,  the 
Scottists  and  Thomists  at  one  period  and  the  Jansenists 
and  Molinists  at  another.  It  has  not,  like  the  National 
Library  at  Paris,  a  room  devoted  to  all  the  Successive 
editions  of  a  school-book.  If,  however,  it  is  lacking  in 
these,  it  does  not  follow  that  it  cannot  afford  ample 
means  for  acquiring  real  learning.  In  administering 
the  modest  income  of  the  company  the  directors  have 
steadily  kept  in  view  the  original  and  main  object  of  the 
association,  to  form  a  library  for  home  reading,  and  so 
have  restricted  their  purchases  in  such  departments  as 
law,  medicine,  mechanics  and  natural  history,  to  which 
special  libraries  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia  are  devoted, 
and  yet  have  also  been  solicitous  to  avoid  ephemeral 
productions  of  no  real  merit.  Hare  and  costly  books 
are  added  from  time  to  time,  and  the  income  of  the 
Loganian  Library  has  gone  to  purchase  such  works  as 
Lepsius'  and  Eosselini's  Egypt,  Kingsborough's  Mexico, 
and  the  twelve  volumes  of  the  antiquities  in  the  British 
Museum.  The  bequest  of  Dr.  Eush's  library  has  added 
many  costly  works  on  similar  subjects,  and  the  student 
of  Egyptology  will  find  in  the  Kidgway  Branch  nearly 
all  the  important  works  in  his  department." 

In  these  early  days,  however,  there  was  little  thought 
of  a  large  or  complete  collection.  The  great  fact  was 
that  there  was  a  pubhc  library  at  all.  Franklin  kept  up 
an  active  interest  in  the  enterprise,  and  of  course  uti- 


THE 
RIDGWAT   LIBRARY. 


-''r  ■  ii 


THE  OLD  PHILADELPHIA  LIBRARY.        145 

lized  it.  He  devoted  at  least  an  hour  every  day  to  study  ; 
he  printed  the  catalogue,  and  so  paid  his  annual  tax  for 
two  years.  In  the  second  year  he  served  as  librarian, 
and  the  visit  the  directors  paid  to  Thomas  Penn  when 
he  came  to  Philadelphia  doubtless  originated  in  his 
shrewd  brain,  ever  ready  to  see  and  seize  an  advantage. 
As  might  have  been  expected,  Penn  acknowledged  the 
courtesy  by  a  gift  of  books  and  apparatus. 

In  ten  years  the  collection  had  outgrown  its  quarters 
in  Robert  Grace's  house,  and  it  was  removed  to  the 
State  House,  where  Dr.  Duche  describes  it  as  being  in 
one  of  the  wings  that  join  the  main  building  by  means 
of  a  brick  arcade. 

In  1750  James  Logan,  who  in  his  youth  was  the  friend 
of  Penn,  and  in  his  old  age  the  adviser  of  Franklin,  died 
and  left  to  the  city  a  curious  and  valuable  legacy.  He 
knew  the  value  of  his  library  as  perhaps  the  very  finest 
private  collection  of  books  in  the  Colonies,  and  he  espe- 
cially prided  himself  on  his  hundred  folios  in  Greek,  his 
complete  set  of  the  Roman  classics  and  the  old  mathe- 
maticians of  Greece.  It  was  altogether  worth  ten 
thousand  pounds,  and  was  in  every  way  a  royal  legacy 
to  Philadelphia. 

When  the  good  old  Quaker  made  his  conditions  with 
his  trustees  he  created  the  only  hereditary  office  in  the 
country.  His  books  were  to  have  a  separate  place  ot 
their  own,  and  the  collection  was  to  bear  his  name.  He 
endowed  it  forever,  and  decided  upon  a  proper  salary 
for  the  librarian,  and  then  ordered  that  this  librarian 


146  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

should  always  belong  to  the  Logan  family,  the  oldest 
son  of  the  oldest  son  being  preferred.  If  it  chanced 
that  the  heir  did  hot  see  tit  to  till  the  othce  he  could 
appoint  a  deputy,  but  as  long  as  a  Logan  of  liis  line 
exists  so  long  does  this  office  belong  to  him.  He  also 
provided  for  trustees,  mostly  from  his  family,  directed 
that  the  Loganian  library  should  be  free  to  the  public, 
and  then,  having  carefully  made  all  these  provisions, 
the  old  man  died  and  left  the  will  unsigned !  His 
widow  and  children,  fortunately,  had  no  idea  of  dis- 
regarding his  wishes,  but  at  once  confirmed  them, 
and  for  forty  years  a  plain  building  at  the  northwest 
corner  of  Sixth  and  Walnut  streets  was  opened  every 
Saturday  afternoon,  "  to  the  end  that  all  persons,  and 
more  especially  those  who  have  any  knowledge  in  the 
Latin  tongue,  may  have  free  admission."  In  1792,  by 
act  of  Assembly,  the  building,  books  and  the  endow- 
ment of  600  acres  of  land  in  Bucks  County  were  handed 
over  to  the  Library  Company  on  the  same  trusts. 

Meantime,  little  occurred  until  1773,  when  the  books 
were  removed  to  Carpenters'  Hall,  remaining  all  through 
the  Revolution,  The  directors  gave  the  use  of  the  books 
to  Congress,  and  when  it  hastily  removed  and  the  Brit- 
ish were  about  entering  the  cit}-,  the}^  were  alarmed 
about  the  safety  of  the  collection,  and  some  of  the  mem- 
bers were  vehement  in  urging  its  immediate  removal. 
To  this  others  objected.  The  risk  of  removal  seemed  to 
them  more  serious  than  that  of  remaining,  and  so  there 
was  hurried,  anxious  argument,  but  as  no  quorum  could 


KUSH   MEMORIALS. 


THE  OLD  PHILADELPHIA  LIBRARY.        149 


be  obtained  the  books  were  left  on  the  shelves,  and  when 
the  British  actually  were  in  occupation  the  officers  were 
glad  to  use  the  books  and  pay  for  them,  and  even  after 
the  room  was  used  as  a  hospital  for  soldiers  no  injury 
was  inflicted  on  the  library. 

And  so  time  went  on.  The  British  left  the  country 
and  sailed  back  to  England  a  wiser  and  a  smaller  army. 
Congress  was  again  in  Philadelphia.  General  Washing- 
ton was  riding  to  Christ  Church  in  his  carriage-and-four  ; 
the  Quakers  approved  the  result  of  the  war,  and  the 
Tories  were  becoming  reconciled.  Everywhere  hope 
was  stronger  than  depression,  and  the  breath  of  a  new 
life  filled  the  country.  In  Philadelphia  trade  prospered, 
ships  were  coming  and  going  from  the  wharves,  and  fac- 
tories w^ere  building.  There  was  a  general  movement 
westward  toward  the  Schuylkill  Kiver,  and  the  library 
was  keeping  pace  with  all  this  activity.  It  had  been  en- 
larged by  the  addition  of  books  from  several  small  and 
unsuccessful  organizations,  and  had  received  some  lega- 
cies. AVhile  Benjamin  West  was  in  England  he  was  one 
day  in  Kent  at  the  house  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Preston, 
and  while  painting  the  portrait  now  in  the  library  he 
lightly  asked  his  host  what  he  meant  to  do  with  all  his 
books.  Mr.  Preston,  smiling,  said  he  did  not  know ;  he 
had  no  children  to  inherit  them.  "Then,"  said  the 
painter,  "why  not  give  them  to  the  Philadelphia  Li- 
brary ?"  and  so  went  on  to  tell  the  Englishman  of  its 
origin  and  purposes.  Mr.  Preston,  listening,  was  inte- 
rested, and  the  end  of  it  was  he  did  leave  his  library  to 
the  Philadelphia  Company. 


150  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

All  this  pi'osperity  and  feeling  of  permanence  made 
the  directors  feel  they  ought  to  have  a  building  of  their 
own,  and  in  1789  they  held  a  meeting,  at  which  Bishop 
White  presided,  and  agreed  to  build  as  soon  as  one  hun- 
dred new  members  were  added  to  the  company.  This 
condition  must  have  been  quickly  fulfilled,  as  in  August 
of  the  same  year  they  laid  the  corner-stone  of  that  de- 
lightful old  building  at  Fifth  and  Library  streets.  Ben- 
jamin Franklin  was  now  an  old  man  of  eighty-three, 
resting  after  long  and  busy  years  of  anxiety,  enterprise 
and  honor.  He  was  not  able  to  lay  the  new  corner- 
stone, but  he  wrote  the  inscription,  yet  so  modestly  that 
he  made  no  mention  of  his  own  share,  and  the  direc- 
tors had  to  alter  it  and  insert  his  name.     It  runs  as 

follows : 

be  it  remembeked 

in  honor  of  the  philadelphia  youth, 

(then  chiefly  artificers) 

that  in  mdccxxxi 

they  cheerfully, 

at  the  instance  of  benjamin  fkanklin, 

one  of  their  number, 

instituted  the  philadelphia  library, 

which,  though  small  at  first, 

is  become  highly  valuable  and  extensively  useful, 

and  which  the  walls  of  this  edifice 

are  now  destined  to  contain  and  i'resekve, 

the  first  stone  of  whose  foundation 

was  here  placed 

the  thirty-first  day  of 

AUGUST,    1789. 

Then  when  this  corner-stone  was  laid  the  "  young  ar- 
tificers "  of  another  generation  came  forward  and  asked 


H^'; 

ii&Th-  < ' 

-^-^ 

B 

i' 

.-- 

>    . 

f4iV>   '[.[.[.It, 

T    \^\ 

THE  PHILOSOPHICAIi  SOCIETT. 


THE  OLD  PHILADELPnTA  LTBRARY.        153 

to  be  allowed  to  help  with  the  new  building  and  to  take 
their  pay  in  stock,  and  one  would  fancy  that  these  shares 
would  be  of  special  value  to  those  who  inherit  them. 

What  Philadelphian  does  not  remember  tliis  library  ! 
Surely  never  was  there  a  building  more  quaint,  more 
quiet,  more  thoroughly  pervaded  with  the  silent  wisdom 
of  many  books.  Again  it  had  followed  the  State  House, 
but  now  stood  opposite  on  Fifth  street.  On  the  pave- 
ments wei'e  crowds  of  people  hurrying  by,  and  every- 
where groups  standing  to  talk.  Nowhere  was  there 
more  haste  and  more  delay.  Omnibuses  had  their  day 
of  rattling  past,  cars  sped  along,  the  prison  wagons  and 
the  carriages  of  lawyers  rumbled  up  the  street,  and  yet 
he  who  ascended  the  winding  flat  steps  and  passed 
under  the  statue  of  Franklin  and  on  through  the  faded 
leather  doors,  passed  into  silence  and  into  a  deep  peace. 
Case  after  case  of  books  lined  the  walls,  and  ran  up  in 
galleries  to  the  ceiling.  Koomy  old  arm-chairs  stood  in 
alcoves  by  colonial  tables.  On  one  side  ticked  a  clock  of 
Franklin's  and  on  the  other  one  of  William  Penn's, 
while  one  which  once  belonged  to  Oliver  Cromwell 
marked  the  day  of  the  month  as  well  as  the  hour.  The 
librarian  sat  at  Penn's  desk  ;  the  pictures  of  the  bene- 
factors of  the  library  hung  on  the  front  of  the  galleries. 
Illuminated  missals,  black-letter  books,  copies  of  Eliot's 
Indian  Bible,  files  of  colonial  newspapers — all '  sorts  of 
curious  and  rare  works  slept  in  their  cases.  On  the 
walls  hung  many  portraits.  There  was  the  old  libra- 
rian, Zachariah  Poulson,  with  the  hat  he  never  removed 


154  A  SYLVAN-  CITY. 


pulled  tightly  down  on  his  ears  ;  the  smooth,  handsome 
fiice  of  Mr.  Preston,  and  Logan's  fine  head.  On  one  of 
the  galleries  was  the  great  bust  of  Minerva,  six  feet 
high.  It  had  stood  behind  the  Speaker's  chair  at  Sixth 
and  Chestnut  streets  the  day  that  General  Washington 
arose  to  open  the  Colonial  Congress.  Who  can  forget 
just  how  it  all  looked,  and  what  an  air  of  age,  of  fine 
content  rested  over  the  old  place  !  The  books  had  for- 
gotten all  controversy,  the  problems  had  all  been  set- 
tled, and  nothing  was  left  but  to  believe  and  to  be  quiet. 
In  a  room  just  back  of  the  main  hall  was  the  "Loga- 
nian"  Library,  and  from  it  ran  another,  long  and  nar- 
row, made  into  dim  alcoves  by  cases  of  books;  and 
here,  in  dear  seclusion,  was  the  scholar  with  his  pile  of 
lexicons  and  classics,  or  the  child  curled  up  in  a  great 
colonial  chair,  happy  with  some   great  volume  of  en- 


gravmgs. 


These  were  the  days  when  everything  seemed  perma- 
nent, and  the  record  of  stock  coming  from  father  to 
son,  and  from  son  to  grandson,  seemed  a  matter  of 
course.  No  one  could  have  been  surprised  because  in 
eighty-seven  years  the  London  agents  were  of  one 
family,  and  that  in  ninety-seven  years  there  should  be 
but  four  librarians  was  something  to  be  expected. 

To  belong  to  the  library  was  a  credential  of  "fam- 
ily," and  if  any  one  wanted  to  see  the  typical  "old  Phi- 
ladelphian"  that  was  the  place  to  seek  him.  Every 
year  added  to  its  credit,  and  when  some  enterprising  yet 
cautious  citizen  would  speak  of  a  new  and  fire-proof 


^  j^^|3iSw|a^^_ 


5  W:'.i\'^.\%^^'''^'i^M.f''^»m'!i^ffxfm7M/m^i'ifi^  mfmif/>i^^  * 


FRANKLIN   INSTITUTE   LIBRARY 


THE  OLD  PHILADELPHIA  LIBRARY.        157 

building,  it  was  like  sacrilege,  so  dear  had  the  old  walls 
grown.  And  yet  the  new  building  came,  and  coming, 
added  another  to  the  curious  legacies  to  which  tliis 
library  is  heir. 

There  lived  in  Philadelphia  not  many  years  *ago,  a 
physician,  Dr.  James  Rush,  who  was  a  son  of  the  Di*. 
'Benjamin  Rush  of  Revolutionary  days.  The  son  in- 
herited the  father's  scholarly  taste,  and  nothing  was  as 
much  to  his  liking  as  a  quiet  room  and  time  for  study. 
He  used,  however,  to  practice  medicine,  driving  about 
in  a  yellow  gig,  and  when  he  had  completed  his  round 
going  eagerly  home  to  his  books.  AVhen  he  was  a  young 
man  in  London,  he  not  only  greatly  admired  Mrs.  Sid- 
dons,  but  he  made  scientific  research  into  the  method 
nature  had  bestowed  on  her,  and  on  his  observations 
founded  his  famous  work  on  the  Voice.  He  also  gave 
some  lessons  to  James  Murdoch,  and — who  would  not 
like  to  believe  ? — the  quality  that  set  this  actor  apart 
from  others,  is,  perhaps,  just  what  he  has  from  Mrs, 
Siddons  by  gift  of  Dr.  Rush.  By  the  rule  of  contra- 
ries, this  lover  of  solitude,  of  study,  of  unbroken  quiet, 
thought  fit  to  ask  Miss  Phoebe  Ann  Ridgway  to 
marry  him,  and  she,  governed  by  the  same  laAv,  con- 
sented. This  young  lady  did  not  love  either  solitude  or 
quiet.  She  liked  to  read  and  to  study,  but  she  wanted 
to  talk  about  her  books,  and  she  had  a  preference  for 
authors  who  were  living  and  could  be  asked  to  a  dinner 
party.  Her  father  was  an  old  Pennsylvanian,  and 
during  the  time  he  was  Consul  at  Antwerp  the  first  Na- 


158  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

poleonic  wars  were  going  ou,  and  the  keen  old  Quaker 
turned  so  many  honest  pennies  that  Miss  Phoebe  brouglit 
her  husband  a  large  fortune.  This  the  latter  valued 
because  it  gave  him  time  to  devote  to  his  researches,  to 
write  his  books  and  increase  his  library.  His  wife  had 
quite  as  much  pleasure  in  it,  but  she  had  no  mind  to 
bury  any  of  it  in  musty  books.  She  built  herself  a  house 
out  Chestnut  street,  near  Nineteenth,  large  enough  to 
hold  eight  hundred  guests.  In  her  dining-room  she  had 
twenty-five  tables,  which  could  be  put  in  a  long  row  to 
seat  a  great  company,  and  with  satin  furniture  of  gold 
and  blue,  with  mirrors  everywhere,  with  gilt  tables  and 
marble  figures,  with  velvet  and  gold,  she  made  the  house 
a  wonder  of  brilliancy.  An  army  of  servants  ran  heie 
and  there.  When  she  gave  a  great  party  they  lighted  six 
thousand  wax  candles.  Everywhere  there  was  life  and 
movement,  people  arriving,  people  departing,  and  in  the 
midst  of  it  all  moved  Mrs.  Rush,  large  and  ruddy,  good 
humored  and  generous.  She  was  not  ignorant,  and  she 
knew  what  was  good,  but  she  was  not  critical,  and  she 
took  a  great  interest  in  people.  If  she  liked  the  poet 
who  read  his  unpublished  poems  to  her,  that  was 
enough,  even  if  his  verses  were  bad,  and  her  pity  for 
the  artist  who  had  no  other  patron,  gave  her  belief  in 
his  future.  She  did  not  blame  people  because  they  had 
not  succeeded,  but  gave  her  warm,  strong  hand  to  many 
a  poor  soul  who  had  never  before  known  so  friendly  a 
grasp.  Her  husband,  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  building, 
far  oft'  from  all  this  going  and  coming,  this  dancing  and 


THE  OLD  PHILADELPHIA  LIBRARY. 


159 


singing,  this  talk  of  art  and  of  people,  wondered  over 
Mrs.  Rush's  likings,  but  he  never  interfered,  and  she  liked 
best  to  have  him  content  and  to  live  her  own  hfe.  She 
had  her  own  definite  ambitions,  and  she  meant  to  revo- 
hitionize  Philadelphia  society.  She  saw  no  reason  why 
society  should  be  broken  into  so  many  sets,  or  why  so 


STAIRWAY   AT  HISTORICAL  SOCIETY'S   EARLY   HOME 

many  good  people  should  not  know  each  other  ;  so  from 
her  spacious  house  she  sent  invitations  here  and  there, 
and  she  bid  to  her  great  balls  every  one  she  thought 
had  a  claim  of  family,  fortune  or  merit.  At  first  people 
came  willingly  enough,  but  they  soon  discovered  that 
they  did  not  Uke  such  promiscuous  company.     The 


160  A  SYLVAW  CITY. 

families  who  lived  south  of  Market  street  were  not  dis- 
posed to  make  visiting  acquaintance  with  those  who 
lived  north  of  the  sacred  Brahmin  boundary,  and  the  em- 
ploj'er  did  not  want  his  daughter  to  dance  with  his  clerk. 
They  had  no  common  ground  of  interest,  and  instead  of 
the  balls  having  a  cosmopolitan  character,  they  defined 
classes  even  more  closely  than  before.  People  began  to 
understand  who  it  was  they  ought  not  to  know,  and 
each  set  drew  into  itself  with  stifFer  reserve.  But  Ma- 
dame Rush  did  not  lose  heart.  She  wished  to  be  a  leader 
in  society,  and  she  aimed  at  having  a  large  constituency. 
She  had  the  ambition  of  a  JS^apoleon,  and  she  meant  to 
make  new  boundary  lines  and  abolish  fictitious  differ- 
ences. Her  fight  was  gallant,  but  although  she  brought 
all  that  money,  ambition  and  hospitality  could  do  to 
help  her,  she  failed,  and  she  conciliated  no  one.  She  had 
no  solvent  to  work  with,  and  her  alien  forces  would  not 
combine.  Still  she  did  her  part  in  forcing  asunder  the 
walls  that  were  hardening  around  "  old  Philadelphia," 
and  fresh  air  rushed  in. 

In  1857  she  died,  aged  fifty-eight,  and  then  for  twelve 
years  the  great  house  stood  silent  and  closed.  In  the 
centre  of  fashion  and  life,  its  darkened  windows  made  it 
look  like  a  tomb.  Dust  settled  over  everything,  and 
grass  grew  where  it  could.  Dr.  Rush's  life,  however, 
went  on  without  alteration.  He  likely  enough  enjoyed 
the  silence,  and  the  gloom  represented  to  him  a  sane  and 
sensible  life.  In  this  dead  quiet  he,  too,  thought  of  his 
fellow-citizens,  and  had  his  own  visions  of  a  hospitality 


THE  OLD  PIIILADELPUIA  LIBRARY.        161 

that  would  be  elevating  and  of  permanent  value.  He 
had  no  frivolous  ideas  of  entertainment,  and  he  loved 
art  just  so  far  as  it  was  justified  by  science.  He  had  in- 
herited all  his  wife's  property,  and  he  worked  out  a 
scheme  that  would  make  the  city  his  heir,  and  at  the 
same  time  raise  a  noble  memorial  to  her  memory  ac- 
cording to  his  own  ideas. 

So  the  Kidgway  Branch  of  the  Philadelphia  Library 
is  Dr.  Rush's  legacy  to  the  city  and  his  monument  to 
lys  wife,  and  no  man  and  woman  have  ever  slept  in  a 
more  magnificent  tomb  than  this  one.  It  stands  in  the 
midst  of  a  spacious  green  lawn,  a  granite  copy  of  the 
Parthenon,  220  feet  long  and  105  feet  wide.  Its  great 
columns  and  broad  steps,  the  magnificent  centre  hall,  all 
lead  to  the  quiet  enclosure  where,  on  a  plain  marble 
slab,  is  written : 

SACRED 

TO   THE   MEMORIES   OP 

MRS.  PHCEBE    ANN    RUSH, 

DAUGHTER   OF 

JACOB   AND   REBECCA  RIDGWAY, 

AND    WIFE    OF 

JAMES    RUSH,  M.  D. 

BORN,  DECEMBER   3d,  A.  D.  1799  ; 

DIED,  OCTOBER  33d,  A.  D.,  1857  : 

AND    OF 

JAMES   RUSH,  M.  D.,  ^ 

THIRD    SON    OF 

DR.    BENJAMIN    AND   JULIA  (NEE   STOCKTON)  RUSH. 

BORN,  MARCH  15TH,  A.  D.  1786; 

DIED,  MAY   26TH,  A.  D.,  1869. 

Around  these  sleepers  are  rooms  and  galleries  filled 
with  over  eighty  thousand  of  the  books  the  husband 


162  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

loved.  The  Loganian  Library  is  here,  and  the  Preston, 
and  all  the  works  on  science  and  learning  which  were 
printed  before  1856  and  owned  by  the  Philadelphia  Li- 
brary. The  Doctor  was  careful  that  nothing  frivolous 
or  unmeaning  should  spoil  the  sacred  sanctity  of  this 
building.  ' '  Let  it  not, ' '  he  said  in  his  will,  referring  to  the 
library,"  let  it  not  keep  cushioned  seats  for  time-wasting 
and  lounging  readers,  nor  places  for  those  teachers  of  dis- 
jointed thinking,  the  daily  newspapers,  except,  perhaps, 
for  I'eference  to  support,  since  such  authority  could 
never  prove,  the  authentic  date  of  an  event."  These 
halls  were  not  to  be  "  encumbered  with  the  ephemeral 
biographies,  novels  and  works  of  fiction  or  amusement, 
newspapers  or  periodicals,  which  form  so  large  a  portion 
of  the  current  literature  of  the  day."  The  hospitality 
the  husband  offered  was  magnificent,  but  it  drew  the 
lines  the  wife  had  tried  to  break,  and  made  a  most 
exclusive  use  of  her  fortune. 

These  were  some  of  the  conditions  in  this  will  which 
made  the  stockholders  of  the  Philadelphia  Library  hesi- 
tate  before  accepting  the  legacy.  It  was  easy  to  assent 
to  the  condition  that  the  hall  was  never  to  be  used  for 
lectures  or  exhibitions,  and  no  collection  or  museum 
was  ever  to  have  a  place  there.  It  was  easy  to  agree 
that  not  more  than  one-fourth  of  the  directors  should 
belong  to  any  one  of  the  learned  professions,  and  that 
it  should  never  be  united  to  any  other  body,  corporate 
or  political ;  but  it  was  not  well  to  accept  a  building 
that  would  exclude  the  majority  of  books  in  circulation 


HISTORICAL    SOCIETY  S    EARLY    HOME — THE    BAY    WIKDOW 


THE  OLD  PHILADELPHIA  LIBRARY.        165 

among  readers,  nor  to  carry  the  old  library  from  its 
convenient  quarters  far  down  town  to  the  site  chosen 
by  Dr.  Rush  and  insisted  upon  by  his  executor.  Long 
and  perplexing  were  the  consultations  of  the  directors, 
and  many  the  legal  appeals,  but  in  vain,  until  at  last 
they  cut  the  knot.  The  old  Library  had  a  building 
fund  of  $125,000,  and  had  bought  a  lot  at  the  corner  of 
Locust  and  Juniper  streets.  Here  they  decided  to  erect 
a  convenient  and  commodious  building  for  the  circu- 
lating department  of  the  Library,  where  the  public 
could  fmd  all  the  "disjointed,"  "ephemeral"  and 
"  popular  "  literature  in  which  it  rejoices.  This  de- 
cision left  the  executor  free  to  use  the  million  of  dollars 
left  by  Dr.  Rush  in  building  the  splendid  sarcophagus 
at  Broad  and  Christian  according  to  his  own  mind. 
In  this  way  the  terms  of  the  will  have  been  met,  and, 
perhaps,  wisely,  but  it  adds  another  to  the  "special" 
libraries  so  numerous  in  Philadelphia.  We  have  the 
Philosophical,  in  its  delightful  rooms  in  the  old  State 
House  building  ;  the  Historical,  the  Franklin  Institute, 
the  Athenisum,  the  different  professional  libraries ; 
but,  with  the  exception  of  the  Mercantile,  we  have  no 
library  where  all  departments  of  literature  are  repre- 
sented. All  the  others  are  limited  and  devoted  to 
special  subjects.  The  great  pity  is  that  Dr.  Rush  did 
not  see  his  fine  oppoi'tunity.  He  had  money  and  he  had 
learning.  If,  in  addition,  he  had  had  something  of  the 
broad,  clear  vision  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  the  liberal 
public  spirit  of  James  Logan,  or  a  share  of  the  generous 


166  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


impulse  of  his  wife,  he  could  have  continued  their  work 
in  a  congenial  spirit.  He  could  still  have  given  Phila- 
delphia what  is  without  question  the  finest  library 
buildins  in  the  world,  but  not  have  surrendered  to  some 
one  else,  as  he  has,  the  honor  of  founding  a  comprehen- 
sive, great  Free  Library  in  his  native  city. 


QUAKER  AND  TORY. 


The  traveler  who  walks  the  streets  of  Philadelphia 
to-day  with  the  idea  that  in  them  are  to  be  seen  the  dis- 
tinct elements  that  in  times  past  went  to  make  up  the 
life  of  the  city  finds  small  trace  of  the  characteristics 
for  which  he  looks.  The  distinctive  dress  of  Quakerism 
is  practically  a  thing  of  the  past.  The  country  mem- 
bers may  still  come  in  to  Quarterly  or  Yearly  Meeting 
in  the  scoop  bonnets  and  broad-brimmed  hats,  the  drabs 
and  browns  of  an  earlier  day,  but  the  city  Quaker  is 
modified  in  spite  of  himself.  Their  protest  is  still  felt ; 
for  the  elders  in  smooth-banded  hair  and  lines  of  dra- 
pery unbroken  by  "trimming;"  for  the  younger  who 
have  yielded  to  its  seductions,  in  a  refusal  of  all  tawdry 
forms  of  ornaments  and  a  subdued  and  quiet  elegance 
both  of  material  and  hue,  which  makes  the  Philadelphia 
woman  the  best  dressed  woman  of  the  day. 

liut  neither  on  Arch  Street,  the  ver}-  home  and  sanc- 
tuary of  Quaker  Conservatism,  nor  on  Spruce  and  Pine, 
once  the  abiding  place  of  stately  and  indignant  Tories, 
scornful  and  skeptical  over  all  new  theories  of  a  govern- 
ment without  a  king,  can  the  seeker  find  more  than  a 
suggestion  of  the  sharply-defined  dividing  lines  of  the 
past.   Their  traces  are  not  hidden  in  brick  and  mortar, 

167 


168  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

or  lost  with  fast-vanishing  landmarks,  but  are  moulded 
unconsciously  in  the  mind  of  the  people,  by  all  old  con- 
ditions, and  show  to  the  student  of  social  science  to- 
day the  form  of  growth  and  development  to  be  expected 
from  such  seed. 

The  Tory  still  lives  and  moves  and  has  his  being,  but 
even  to  him  come  gleams  of  the  spirit  of  the  age  ;  "  van- 
ishings,  black  misgivings,"  it  may  be,  but  all  pro- 
phetical of  a  time  when  his  individuality,  with  its 
obstinacy  and  obtuseness  and  self-satisfied  absurdities, 
will  also  be  historical  —  perhaps,  at  last,  even  mythical. 

To-day,  side  by  side  with  the  man  of  the  present,  he  has 
been  heard  to  say,  terrapin-plate  in  hand  and  wine-glass 
delicately  held  and  eyed  :  ' '  Sir,  had  I  not  had  the  fortune 
to  be  born  in  a  sphere  of  society  which  regards  litera- 
ture as  a  disreputable  pursuit,  I  might,  without  scruple, 
say  I  should  have  been  a  shining  light  in  the  American 
intellectual  firmament." 

This  is  the  Tory  with  a  pedigree,  and  possessing  many 
of  the  virtues  of  the  man  with  a  pedigree  who,  in  spite 
of  himself,  must  seek  to  live  up  to  its  traditions.  The 
middle-class  Tory,  the  counterpart  of  the  "  Philistine  " 
element  in  England  bewailed  by  Matthew  Arnold,  has 
all  the  prejudices,  all  the  stupidities  of  the  first-men- 
tioned variety,  with  no  mitigation  of  culture  or  fine 
breeding.  From  one  of  these,  like  the  English  Philis- 
tine owning  a  gig  and  settled  into  a  prosperous  dullness, 
came  the  other  day  a  comment  equally  significant  of 
the  speaker's  mental  attitude  : 


o 
a 


'l^JS^t 


QUAKER  AND  TORY.  171 

"  Philadelphians  don't  care  as  much  for  Atlantic 
City  as  they  did.  You  see  nobody  goes  there  much 
now  but  Germans  and  Jews  and  editors  and  that  kind  of 
people.'''' 

The  Quaker  has  outstripped  the  Tory,  but  even  the 
Quaker  tarries  in  the  race.  Too  much  terrapin  is  said 
to  be  the  reason  for  the  loss  of  intellectual  supremacy 
once  claimed  by  Baltimore,  and  too  much  old  family, 
which  is  only  a  synonym  for  an  over-supply  of  terrapin, 
may  be  the  cause  of  certain  features  perceptible  to  the 
looker-on,  but  the  existence  of  which  is  denied  by  the 
subjects  of  such  observation.  To-day  is  inexplicable 
unless  one  returns  to  the  time  in  which  these  forms, 
crystallized  now  into  something  almost  unalteral)le, 
were  still  chaotic,  moved  by  each  fresh  current,  yet 
even  then  slowly  gathering  shape  and  character. 

The  Philadelphia  of  to-day  has  settled  into  a  fixed 
and  seemingly  unchangeable  mould.  One  passes  through 
street  after  street  of  houses  so  like  one  another  that  at 
last  the  belief  becomes  fixed,  that  one  has  only  to  touch 
some  central  knob  to  see  each  front  slide  up  and  reveal 
every  family  doing  exactly  the  same  thing  at  the  same 
moment  in  the  same  way.  The  uniformity  is  first 
amusing,  then  irritating,  then  depressing,  and  is  ac- 
cepted at  last  as  the  solution  of  certain  otherwise  unex- 
plainable  characteristics.  Monotony  long  continued  has 
deadened  perception,  mental  and  spii-itual.  Progress  is 
unnecessary  where  every  one  is  perfectly  comfortable 
and  convinced  that  improvement  is  needless,  and  thus 


173 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


an  ambitious  and  active-minded  man  finds  it  easy  to 
become  practically  master  of  the  state  :  the  statute 
book  still  holds  laws  abolished  in  nearly  every  other 
part  of  the  Union,  and  the  course  of  public  action 
on  any  point  drags  to  a  degree  that  drives  the  few 
eager  reformers  well  nigh  to  madness.  N'evertheless, 
reform  goes 
on.  The  spirit 
of  the  found- 
ers remains. 
Packed  and 
moulded,  as 
the  mass  may 
be,  in  a  heavy 
consistency, 
the    leaven   is 

there  and  works  secretly  to  its  destined  end,  the  story  of 
the  past  giving  the  key  to  the  future. 

With  the  opening  of  1750  Philadelphia  was  still  a 
"green  country  town,"  each  house  surrounded  by  gar- 
dens and  trees  and  fine  orchards  so  numerous  that 
peaches  were  fed  to  pigs.  Professor  Kalm,  the  Swedish 
naturahst,  whose  "Travels  into  North  America"  are 
still  of  interest  to  the  botanist,  marveled  at  the  profuse- 
ness  of  all  forms  of  food,  and  wrote  rather  dolorously  : 
"The  country  people  in  Sweden  and  Finland  guard 
their  turnips  more  carefully  than  the  people  here  do  the 
most  exquisite  fruits." 

A  profitable,  though   somewhat   circuitous  and  in- 


JOHN    BARTRAM,  HIS    BIBLE. 


QUAKER  AND  TORT.  175 

volved  commerce  benefitted  all.  Toleration  attracted 
immigrants,  and  life  was  on  a  milder  and  easier  basis 
than  in  the  New  England  Colonies,  partly  from  the 
gentler  orthodox}^  partl}^  because  natural  aspects  were 
seldom  strenuous  or  terrible.  Quakers  then  numbered  a 
little  more  than  a  third  of  the  population,  and  discounte- 
nanced all  amusements,  but  the  rest  of  the  people  en- 
gaged freely  in  many  forms  of  innocent  enjoyment.  New 
England,  under  the  dynasty  of  the  Mathers,  was  going 
through  the  blood-curdling  and  soul-crushing  terrors  of 
that  religious  system  which  to-day  has  its  reaction  in 
the  "Free  Religious  Association"  and  the  "  Radical 
Club."  Whitfield  for  a  time  darkened  the  Philadelphia 
sky  with  the  terror  no  man  ever  better  succeeded  in 
exciting,  but  the  effect  soon  passed,  and  the  mild  Phila- 
delphians  returned  to  their  easy-going  lives.  Quakerism 
had  meant  deep  spiritual  perception,  and  in  the  begin- 
ning a  crusade  against  all  accepted  facts  and  theories  of 
the  time,  that  set  them  a  hundred  years  in  advance. 
With  nothing  to  protest  against  in  the  new  home  their 
zeal  naturally  died,  and  for  the  most  of  them  there 
remained  and  continued  only  the  features  by  which 
Philadelphia  is  best  known,  "  thrift,  uniformity,  sedate- 
ness,  cleanliness  and  decorum,  with  a  toleration  of  all 
opinions  and  observances." 

Social  life  among  them  was  in  one  sense  unknown.  A 
people  who  relied  on  the  inward  light  and  scorned  the 
learning  of  this  world,  shut  off  at  one  touch  all  usual 
sources  of  entertainment.      Hospitality  alone  remained 


176  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


— hunting,  shooting,  dancing  assembhes,  music  or  fairs 
being  all  pi'ohibited,  but  their  loss  being  made  up,  as  far 
as  might  be,  by  lavish  entertainment.  At  Stenton,  con- 
sidered "a  palace  in  its  day,"  lived  James  Logan,  the 
life-long  friend  and  secretary  of  Penn,  a  man,  like 
many  of  the  early  Quakers,  of  learning  and  scholarly 
'  taste,  w^hose  library,  bequeathed  at  his  death  to  the  city, 
is  still  a  rare  and  costly  collection,  being  especially  rich 
in  legal  and  medical  treatises.  The  reign  of  drab  had 
not  begun,  for  at  the  decorous  dinners  and  suppers  given 
at  Stenton  there  is  record  already  given  of  "white  satin 
petticoats  worked  in  flowers,  pearl  satin  gowns  or  peach- 
colored  satin  cloaks ;  the  white  necks  were  covered  with 
delicate  lawn,  and  they  wore  gold  chains  and  seals  en- 
graven with  their  arms." 

It  was  the  reign  of  wigs.  Even  the  serious-minded 
Quaker  yielded  to  the  spell.  Penn's  private  expense 
book  shows  four  in  one  year.  Even  paupers  claimed 
them  as  an  inalienable  right,  and  a  ship-load  of  con- 
victs having  been  brought  over  were  imposed  upon  the 
unfortunate  Pennsylvanians  as  "  respectable  servants  " 
by  simply  dignifying  each  one  with  a  cheap  but  vo- 
luminous wig.  Franklin,  disdainful  as  he  was  of  show 
and  artificiality,  looks  out  on  vis  in  the  earliest  por- 
trait extant  from  a  stifi'  and  tremendous  horse-hair  wig. 
Wristbands  reached  nearly  to  the  elbows,  met  there 
by  short  and  deep-cuffed  coat  sleeves,  and  snowy  ruffles 
covered  tlie  manly  bosoms  of  Quaker  and  Tory  alike. 
But  elegance,  save  in  a  few  isolated  instances,  was 


>^^»^ 


HAMILTON    HOUSE,    WOODLANDS    CEMETERY. 


QUAKER  AND  TORY.  179 

impossible  iu  any  modern  sense.     There  was  wealth 
enough  for  the  general  comfort ;  pauperism  was  practi- 
cally uxiknown,  but  life  was  frugal,  limited,  and,  to  our 
modern  apprehension,  inconceivably  slow.     The  daily 
newspaper  was  undreamed  of,  a  monthly,  the  size  of  a 
sheet  of  Congress  paper,  holding  all  the  news  demanded 
by  the  Colonists.     Carpets,  save  in  one  or  two  of  the 
more  stately  houses,  were  an  uudesired  luxury,  fresh 
sand  being  considered  more  healthful.     Sjiinning  and 
weaving  were  still  household  occupations,  and  Franklin 
rejoiced  in  being  clothed    from   head  to  foot  in   cloth 
woven  and  made  up  by  his  energetic  wife.     The  store 
formed  a  part  of  the  dwelling  house,   and   if  a  mer- 
chant had  more  than  one   clerk   he  was  regarded   as 
doing  a  perilously  large  business.    "Society"  then,  as 
now,  was  made  up  of  a  very  small  number ;  a  single 
set,  that  even  as  late  as  1790  consisted  only  of  "  the 
Governor,  two  or  three  other  official  persons,  a  great 
lawyer  or  two,  a  doctor  or  two,  half-a-dozen  families 
retired  from  business,  a  dozen  merchants  and  a  few 
other  persons   .    .    .    who  had  leisure  enough   for  the 
elegant  enjoyment  of  life." 

The  amusements  of  this  society  before  the  Revolution 
were  of  the  same  order  as  prevailed  in  the  mother 
country.  The  young  man  of  good  family  and  ex- 
pectations devoted  himself  to  deep  drinking  and  the 
practical  jokes  of  beating  watchmen,  twisting  ofl'  door- 
knobs and  knockers,  changing  signs  and  all  the  light 
diversions  made  familiar  to  us  in  the  literature  of  the 


180 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


eighteenth  century.  For  the  rich  this  was  merely 
youthful  effervescence,  and  young  William  Penn  was 
the  leader  in  excesses  that  necessitated  his  recall  to 
England,  and  half  broke  his  father's  heart.  For  the 
son  and  for  various  succeeding  generations  of  Penns  the 
old  Admiral's  traits  proved  povverful  enough  to  be  the 
inheritance  of  most  of  his  descendants,  who  passed  from 
Quakerism  to  Toryism  with  perfect  facility,  headed  by 
young  William  Penn,  who,  furious  at  Quaker  interfe- 


ON   THE   WISSAHICKON — THE   OLD   LIVEZET  HOUSE. 


QUAKER  AND  TORY. 


181 


rence,  announced  himself  a  Church  of  England  man, 
and  remained  so  to  his  death. 


GABDEN   GATE   OF   THE   OLD   LIVEZET   HOUSE. 


In  the  market-place  stood  pillor}-,  whipping-post  and 
stocks.  Women  were  publicly  whipped  as  late  as  1760, 
and  the  "public  whipper  "  had  a  salary  of  ten  pounds 
a  year.  The  country  people  who  came  in  twice  a  week 
over  the  almost  impassable  roads,  regarded  this  as  one 
of  the  essential  sights  of  market-day,  which  in  1729 
found  a  poetical  describer.  Then,  as  now,  Jersey  was 
chief  purveyor,  the  wagons  crossing  over  by  way  of 
Market  street  ferry,  the  market  itself  extending  up  the 

street. 

"  An  yew  bow's  distance  from  the  kcy-bullt  strand 
Our  court-house  fronts  C^sarea's  pine-tree  land  ; 
Through  the  arch'd  dome  and  on  each  side  the  street 
Divided  runs,  remote  aarain  to  meet. 
Here  eastward  stand  the  trap  for  obloquy 
And  petty  crimes— stocks,  post  and  pillory ; 
And,  twice  a  week,  beyond., liffht  stalls  are  set, 
Loaded  with  fruits  and  flowers  and  Jersey's  meat. 


182  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

Westward,  conjoin,  the  Shambles  grace  the  court, 
Brick  piles  their  long  extended  roof  support. 
Oft  west  from  these  the  country  wains  are  seen 
To  crowd  each  hand  and  leave  a  breadth  between." 

The  farmers  who  came  in  from  the  west  were  often 
mired,  and  tlie  condition  of  the  roads  was  such  that 
pleasure-riding  was  practically  almost  unknown,  there 
being  up  to  1780  not  more  than  a  score  of  pleasure  ve- 
hicles in  the  entire  province.  The  internal  commerce  of 
the  state  was  chiefly  by  means  of  pack-horses,  and  as 
market-wagons  increased  they  were  either  provided  with 
lock-chains  for  the  wheels,  or  a  heavy  log  was  tied  to  the 
wagon  and  trailed  on  the  ground,  its  weight  being  essen- 
tial in  the  mountain  roads,  cut  into  deep  gullies  on  one 
side,  while  the  other  was  made  up  of  blocks  of  sandstone, 
the  descent  being  very  like  going  down  a  flight  of  stone 
steps.  The  "  Conestoga  wagon  "  still  in  use  is  modeled  on 
the  plan  of  the  earliest  vehicles.  An  adventurous  Quaker 
who  left  Philadelphia  in  1784  to  make  a  home  in  the 
interior  of  the  state,  has  left  a  description  of  the  jour- 
ney worth  the  consideration  of  those  who  grumble  at 
less  than  thirty-five  miles  an  hour.  The  family  were 
father,  mother,  three  young  children  and  a  bound  boy 
of  fourteen.  Three  pack-horses  formed  the  train.  On  the 
first  rode  mother,  young  baby  and  the  table  furniture 
and  cooking  utensils  ;  the  second  carried  the  provisions, 
plow-irons  and  agricultural  tools ;  the  third  bore  a 
pack-saddle  and  "  two  large  creels,  made  of  hickory 
withes  in  the  manner  of  a  crate,  one  over  each  side  of 
the  horse,  in  which  were  stowed  beds,  bedding  and  wear- 


QUAKER  AND  TORT.  185 

ing  apparel.  In  the  centre  of  these  creels  was  left  a 
vacanc}',  just  sutiicient  to  admit  a  child  in  each,  laced 
in,  with  their  heads  peeping  out  therefrom."  Behind 
this  company  paced  two  perplexed  and  serious  cows,  the 
source  of  supplies  for  the  journey.  On  the  road,  hardly 
wider  than  an  Indian  trail,  they  were  often  met  or  over- 
taken by  long  trains  of  pack-horses,  those  from  the 
west  bearing  jjcZiry  and  <jinscn<j ;  those  going  west,  kegs 
of  spirits,  salt  and  packs  of  dry  goods. 

The  Quaker,  however,  seldom  went  beyond  reach  of 
his  own  people  and  special  means  of  grace,  or,  if  he  mi- 
grated, did  it  in  bodies,  small  colonies  at  intervals  leav- 
ing the  quiet  comfort  of  the  city  for  the  wild  woods  of 
the  interior.  Each  year  found  them  a  little  more  torpid 
and  peace-loving — a  little  less  disposed  to  be  disturbed 
in  the  daily  routine  of  money-making  and  money-saving. 
The  city  grew  steadily,  and  prosperity  seemed  universal, 
but  the  Arcadian  innocence  often  supposed  to  be  the 
condition  of  the  early  settlement  was  by  no  means  the 
real  state  of  the  case.  Politics  were  quite  as  corrupt 
then  as  now,  and  Proud's  "  History  of  Pennsylvania" 
gives  facts  which  show  not  only  hotly-contested  elec- 
tions, but  that  the  office-seeker  was  the  same  creature 
then  as  now.  The  unmanageableness  of  American  poli- 
ticians had  become  apparent  as  early  as  1704,  when 
Penn  records  that  men  who  were  modest  enough  when 
lost  in  the  crowd  in  England,  in  America  "think  no- 
thing taller  than  themselves  but  the  trees." 

Tory   and  Quaker,   though   sharing  equally   in   the 


186  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


government,  were  often  at  cross-purposes,  the  necessary 
calls  for  militia  being  always  seasons  of  heart-burning 
for  both  sides.  The  younger  generation  of  Quakers 
were  often  renegades  from  a  faith  growing  more  and 
more  rigid  as  to  form,  and  with  the  stormy  days  of  the 
Kevolution  many  joined  the  army,  and  thus  read  them- 
selves "  out  of  meeting,"  though  restored  in  some  cases 
on  a  qualified  confession,  or  expression  of  sorrow  that 
circumstances  had  forced  them  to  violate  their  prin- 
ciples. 

But  the  period  from  1740  to  1775  was  one  of  quiet 
prosperity  and  a  gradual  increase,  not  only  of  wealth, 
but  of  means  for  intellectual  enjoyment.  Franklin's 
vivid  intelligence  had  made  its  way,  his  leathern  apron 
proving  no  bar  to  admission  into  a  society  the  decorous 
dullness  of  which  needed  every  mitigation  he  could  give. 
Shrewd,  far-sighted  and  keen,  his  humor  never  degene- 
rated into  cynicism,  and  his  cathoUc  and  tolerant  nature 
made  friendship  with  even  the  most  opposing  elements 
possible.  From  a  dispute  in  a  tavern  parlor  to  a  church 
quarrel,  he  Ustened  to  differences  and  suggested  solu- 
tions with  a  calm  countenance  schooled  to  hide  the  in- 
ward chuckle. 

Acitators  brought  their  schemes  for  reform  ;  conser- 
vatives  their  plans  for  repression.  The  fierce  and  irre- 
pressible little  Benjamin  Lay  insisted  upon  his  co-ope- 
ration in  a  scheme  to  convert  all  men  to  Christianity, 
and,  with  Michael  Lovell  and  Abel  Noble,  the  Trans- 
cendentalists  of  that  period,  met  at  Franklin's  house  to 


H 

i 

H 
C 


QUAKER  AND  TORY.  189 

discuss  preliminaries.  Unluckily  a  grand  dispute  ensued 
as  to  methods.  The  apostles  waxed  louder  and  louder, 
each  determined  to  convert  the  world  after  his  own 
fashion.  Benjamin  Lay  pounded  the  table  and  shrieked 
at  the  top  of  his  piercing  voice,  and  Franklin,  who 
looked  on  in  quiet  amusement,  finally  separated  these 
champions  of  peace  and  good-will,  advising  them  to 
give  up  their  project  until  they  had  learned  to  govern 
themselves. 

John  Bartram,   called    by   Linnfcus    "the  greatest 
natural  botanist  in  the  world,"  had  made  a  home  for 
himself  near  Gray's  Ferr}^,  where  he  built  a  stone  house 
and  planned  the  botanic  garden,  in  which,  though  long 
diverted  from  its  original  purpose,  may  still  be  seen  some 
of  the  rare  and  curious  specimens  of  trees  and  plants  col- 
lected in  his  many  botanical  expeditions.  Born  a  Quaker, 
he  retained  to  the  end  the  best  features  of  that  creed, 
living  a  life  of  constant  charity,  maintaining  always  the 
natural  and  equal  rights  of  man,  and  thus  naturally 
among  the  early  protesters  against  slavery,  but  of  so 
cheerful  a  temperament  and  winning  a  manner  that  an- 
tagonism was  impossible  in  his  presence.     At  seventy 
he  undertook  the  last  of  his  many  journeys,  which  had 
led  him  thousands  of  miles  in  the  Southern  States  in 
search  of  materials  for  natural  history  and  for  his  bo- 
tanical collection.     Every  scientific  man  abroad  came 
into  friendship  and  correspondence,  and  his  house  was 
the  seat  of  a  large  though  always  simple  hospitality,  the 
earnest  student  in  any  direction  finding  welcome  and  as- 


190  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

sistance.  One  son  succeeded  to  the  place,  himself  a  dis- 
tinguished florist  and  botanist,  as  well  as  ornithologist, 
and  confirmed  in  his  natural  bent  toward  the  same  life  by 
every  influence  about  him.  Franklin  had  had  his  after- 
noon of  kite-flying,  and  had  talked  it  over  in  Bartram's 
sanded  parlor.  Rittenhouse,  pale  and  quiet,  had  warmed 
in  describing  his  orrery,  or  planning  for  better  instru- 
ments and  facilities  in  the  new  observatory.  Rush  and 
Shippen  and  the  corps  of  physicians,  famous  then  as 
now,  talked  over  plans  of  the  new  University,  Kalm, 
the  Swedish  botanist,  made  his  headquarters  there,  and 
every  distinguished  visitor  from  abroad  found  his  way  to 
the  wonderful  garden,  the  fame  of  which  had  brought 
Bartram  the  appointment  from  England  as  "  Botanist 
to  his  Majesty  George  the  Third."  The  Philosophical 
Society  was  safely  launched,  and  a  powerful  factor  in  the 
intellectual  life  of  the  city,  and  Thomas  Penn  had  made 
gifts  of  both  books  and  instruments,  though  his  chief 
interest  was  in  extending  Church  of  England  principles. 
James  Logan,  one  of  the  most  versatile  yet  deeply 
learned  men  of  the  time,  an  ardent  Quaker,  and  yet  as 
ardent  an  advocate  for  resistance  to  British  encroach- 
ments, made  one  in  every  meeting,  formal  or  infor- 
mal, where  scientific  questions  came  up,  representing  a 
development  which  to  many  Quakers  seemed  almost 
impious.  The  doctors  especially  were  regarded  as  not 
much  better  than  ghouls,  and  one  gaunt  and  spectral 
Quaker  maiden  named  Leah  for  many  years  was  accus- 
tomed at  intervals  to  pass  the  night,  wrapped  in  a  blan- 


/^^  ■*%  111  "Ss^  f=&« 


4--4- 


\ 


il.  ^.\^'J 


ll\ 


mm 


QUAKER  AND  TORY.  193 


ket,  and  stealing  among  the   graves  of  the   Potter's 
Field  for  the  purpose  of  frightening  them  away. 

The  up-town  and  down-town  boys  had,  till  the  British 
occupation,  nightly  battles  with  sticks  and  stones,  on 
one  occasion  suspending  it  to  gaze  upon  George  Boyn- 
ton,  a  young  Philadelphian  of  such  extraordinary  per- 
sonal beauty  and  fascination  that  boys  and  men  alike 
turned  to  look  after  him.  "  The  most  admirable  among 
the  fashionable  young  gentlemen  of  his  day,"  says  an 
old  chronicle,  "  sought  after  by  young  and  old."  From 
the  Tory  Governor,  Eichard  Penn,  married  to  Mistress 
Polly  Masters  and  holding  high  revelry  in  the  stately 
house  on  Market  Street,  to  Parson  Duche's  mansion, 
notable  as  himself,  all  welcomed  the  young  Apollo,  be- 
loved by  Quaker  and  Tory  alike,  and  bitterly  mourned 
when  taken  by  the  fever  of  1793,  which  for  a  time 
threatened  to  depopulate  the  cit}-. 

Up  to  the  date  of  the  British  occupation  the  various 
elements  of  the  city  had  remained  as  distinct  as  oil  and 
water.  French  Huguenots,  refugees  from  the  St.  Do- 
mingo massacre,  the  Germans  who  made  up  the  chief 
population  of  Germantown  and  the  northern  part  of  the 
city,  the  Swedes  who  still  held  their  place  along  the 
Delaware,  the  English  who  retained  all  old  halnts  and 
as  yet  had  by  no  means  taken  on  the  features  of  the 
new  life,  and  last  the  Quakers,  more  and  more  Tory  in 
their  slussishness  and  terror  at  anvthing  which  threat- 
ened  a  suspension  of  profit,  made  up  as  diverse  a  set  of 
elements  as  any  city  could  show.     To  let  one  another 


194  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

thoroughly  alone  was  the  one  point  held  in  common, 
and  not  till  a  common  danger  forced  united  action  did 
any  real  harmony  of  purpose  prevail.    Franklin's  strong 
will,  concealed  by  a  gentle  and   conciliating  manner, 
carried  all  before  it,  and  it  was  in  great  part  through 
his  influence  that  the  younger  Quakers  in  many  cases 
entered  the  army  and  the  elder  forgot  both  prudence 
and  principles  and  subscribed  freely  for  popular  needs. 
In  spite  of  war  the  city  did  not  cease  to  grow,  and,  as 
the  seat  of  Congress  and  the  scene  of  the  first  years  of 
independent  government,  became  of  more  importance 
than  any  other  in  the  new  confederation.    Life  changed 
in  all  ways.     The  low  houses  of  the  first  period  had 
been  replaced  by  buildings,  the  height  of  which  was  pro- 
tested against  by  the  old  people,  who  regarded  them  as 
an  invitation  to  both  fire  and  lightning.    Robert  Morris, 
cautious,  shrewd  and  successful  in  all  his  financial  man- 
agement of  public  interests,  had  begun  the  impossible 
palace  known  as  "  Morris'  Tolly. "     It  covered  an  entire 
square  from  Chestnut  to  Walnut  and  Seventh  to  Eighth. 
The   architect's   estimates   had   been   for  $00,000,  but 
nearly  that  sum  had  been  expended  before  it  reached 
the  first  story  above  ground,  there  being  two  and  gome- 
times   three  underground,   made    up    of   innumerable 
arches,  vaults  and  labyrinths.     Marble  had  been  used 
for  the  whole,  ornamented  in  relief,  but  before  the  roof 
was  on,  impatient  and  indignant  creditors,  for  whom  no 
money  remained,  found  their  only  resource  would  be  to 
pull  down,  block  by  block,  the  vast  mass  of  material 


QUAKER  AND  TORT. 


197 


which,  put  into  smaller  houses,  might  possibly  bring 
some  return.     The  "  Folly  "  became  a  row  of  buildings 


on  Sansom  Street,  and  only 
the  underground  laby- 
rinths, so  massively  built 
as  to  defy  the  reconstruct- 
ors,  remain,  and  may  pos- 
sibly puzzle  future  explo- 
rers. 

Many  houses  of  lesser 
magnificence,  but  of  equal 
interest,  had  been  built 
during  the  second  fifty 
years  of  the  settlement,  a 
few  of  which  still  remain, 
but  chiefly  in  and  between 
the  city  and  Germantown, 
improvements  having  done 
away  with  most  of  those 
in  the  business  part  of  the 
city.  Whitpain's  "Great 
House,"  Bingham's  Man- 
sion, Loxley's  house  and 
Bathsheba's   Bath  and 


"keramics"at  stenton. 


Bower  have  left  no  trace, 
but  in  Germantown  many  of  the  first  buildings  are  still 
standing,  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  these  being  the 
old  Livezey  house,  occupied  by  families  of  the  same 
name  for  two  hundred  years. 


198  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

Continental  money  had  had  its  day,  ruining  many  of 
the  holders  and  bringing  about  a  rate  of  prices  only 
equaled  in  the  last  days  of  the  Southern  Confederacy. 
An  original  bill  of  purchases  in  1781  is  still  to  be  seen, 
reading  as  follows  : 


Capt.  a.  McLane: 

. 

January  5,  1781. 

Bo't  of  W 

.  NiCOLL. 

1  pair  boots,      .         .         .         . 

$600.00 

6%  yds  calico  at  $8.5  per  yard, 

7.52.00 

6  yds  of  chintz  at  $150  do. 

900.00 

4>^  yds  moreen  at  $100  do. 

4.50.00 

4  handkerchiefs  at  $100  do.       . 

400.00 

8  yds  quality  binding  at  $4  per 

yard, 

32.00 

1  skein  of  silk, 

•                • 

10.00 

$3,144.00 
If  paid  in  specie,  £18  10s. 

Received  payment  in  full  for  W.  Nichols, 

JoNA.  Jones. 

Like  that  in  New  York,  the  Tory  element  of  Philadel- 
phia welcomed  British  occupation  as  the  final  settle- 
ment of  the  insolent  revolt  of  the  lower  class  against 
the  high,  and  joined  with  the  British  officers  in  such 
carnival  as  has  never  since  been  seen.  The  Walnut 
Street  Prison  was  crowded  with  starving  prisoners,  the 
survivors  for  years  telling  stories  of  abuse  and  incre- 
dible suffering,  only  paralleled  by  Andersonville  in  our 
own  day.  Germantown  had  seen  one  of  the  sharpest 
battles  of  the  war,  and  hardly  a  country  seat  but  was 
filled  with  its  quota  of  wounded  and  dying.  Many  were 
burned,  many  more  riddled  with  bullets,  and  to-day 
under  many  a  quiet  lawn  rebel  and  oppressor  are  lying 


QUAKER  AND  TORT. 


199 


side  by  side,  all  unknown  to  the  generation  who  walk 
above  them.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  sorrow  and  mourn- 
ing was  projected  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  per- 
formances the  country  has  ever  known.  Balls,  regattas, 
any  form  of  amusement  that  could  be  devised,  were  held 
at  every  point  of  British  occupation,  but  the  story  of  the 
Meschianza  at  Wharton's  country  seat,  at  Southwark, 
the  18th  of  May,  1778,  reads  like  a  page  of  the  "  Arabian 
Nights."  From  the  Green  Street  Wharf,  then  the  only 
one  of  any  size 
above  Vine  St., 
the  brilliant 
company  em- 
barked at  half- 
past  four  in  the 


BEFORE  THE    FIRE — STENTON. 


200  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

afternoon,  in  a  "grand regatta"  of  three  divisions.  Three 
Hat-boats,  each  with  its  band  of  music,  preceded  them  ; 
an  avenue  of  grenadiers  awaited  tliem  at  tlie  fort  below 
Swedes'  Cliurch,  with  light  horse  in  the  rear.  Here  a 
square  lawn,  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  to  a  side, 
formed  the  area  for  a  tournament.  Two  pavilions  held 
on  the  front  seat  seven  young  ladies  dressed  in  Turkish 
costume  designed  by  Major  Andre,  w^ho  acted  as  stage 
manager,  while  in  their  turbans  were  the  articles  to  be 
bestowed  upon  their  several  knights.  Seven  "  white 
knights,"  in  white  and  red  silk,  mounted  on  gayly- 
caparisoned  horses,  followed  by  esquires  in  the  same 
colors,  entered  to  the  sound  of  trumpets,  the  herald  pro- 
claiming their  challenge  to  the  "black  knights,"  whose 
entry  in  black  and  orange  was  quite  as  imposing.  All 
the  forms  of  a  knightly  tournament  were  faithfully  fol- 
lowed. Four  encounters,  each  with  a  different  weapon, 
took  place.  All  then  ascended  a  flight  of  steps  leading 
into  a  profusely-decorated  hall,  where  the  knights  first 
received  their  favors  from  the  ladies,  and  then  drank 
tea  to  i-estore  their  weakened  energies. 

The  ball-room  awaited  them,  festooned  with  flowers 
reflected  from  eighty-five  mirrors  borrowed  from  the 
citizens,  with  lustres  between.  Dancing  and  magnifi- 
cent fireworks  occupied  the  evening.  Up  to  midnight 
four  rooms,  each  with  its  sideboard  of  refreshments,  had 
served  to  keep  up  the  spirits  of  the  company ;  but  as 
that  hour  sounded,  folding  doors,  skillfully  concealed, 


COURT    nOUSE,    SECOND    AND    IllCn    STS. — 
BUILT    1707,    DESTROYED    1837. 


QUAKER  AND  TORY.  203 

sprang  open  and  displayed  a  saloon  two  hundred  and 
ten  feet  by  forty  feet,  decorated  with  flowers,  brilliant 
with  wax  lights,  over  three  hundred  of  which  were  on 
the  supper-tables,  while  twenty-four  slaves  in  oriental 
dresses,  with  silver  collars  and   bracelets,  served  the 
throng.  Major  Andre  wrote  of  it  as  "the  most  splendid 
entertainment  ever  given  by  an  army  to  its  general," 
the  whole   expense  having  been  borne  by  twenty-two 
field  officers.     The  only  American  gentlemen  present 
were  aged  non-combatants,  but  fifty  young  unmarried 
American   ladies   and  many  more   married  ones  were 
there.     One  month  later,  the  rebele,  supposed  to  have 
been  rendered  hopeless,  marched  in  and  took  posses- 
sion, many  of  the  gay  knights  having  barely  time  to 
escape.     Later  on  the  American  officers  of  Washing- 
ton's command  made  a  great  ball  for  the  officers  of  the 
French  army,  and  at  first  refused  to  invite  the  Mes- 
chianza  ladies.     Second  thought  included  them,  but  in 
the  fear  that  they  might  lack  partners  lots  were  drawn 
and  every  means  taken  to  prevent  uncomfortable  feel- 
ing, though  privately  the  memory  rankled  for  many 
years  afterward. 

The  Tory  Quaker  and  the  practically  Quaker  Tory 
are  still  to  be  seen,  but  the  nineteenth  century  is  doing 
its  universal  work,  destroying  all  characteristic  lines, 
and  another  generation  or  two  will  render  distinction 
well-nigh  impossible.  Less  interesting  than  in  the  past, 
the  curious  observer  must  be  content  with  reproducing 


204  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

the  old  conditions  for  himself,  finding  consolation  for  a 
more  and  more  general  uniformity  in  the  fact  that 
though  individuality  may  be  temporarily  destroyed,  it 
must  again  assert  itself  in  time,  and  in  more  attractive 
forms  than  anything  the  past  has  known. 


ALLEGOKICAL   GKOUP   FOR   THE   NEW   POST-OFFICE. 
Designed  by  S.  French. 


THE  PHILADELPHIA  POST-OFFICE. 


IFTY  YEAES  hence,  when 
postal  savings  banks  and 
government  telegraph  and 
express  offices  shall  have 
been  successfully  establish- 
ed throughout  the  United 
States ;  when  the  domestic  and  international  money 
order  and  registry  systems  shall  have  been  brought  to 
practical  as  well  as  theoretical  perfection  ;  when  rapid 
transit  local  deliveries  shall  have  superseded  the  present 
somewhat  incipient  carrier  service ;  when  absolute 
honesty  shall  have  been  insured  in  every  department 
by  tenure  of  office,  depending  upon  the  ethciency  and 
fidelity  of  employes  ;  and  when,  in  fine,  the  mails  shall 
have  become  the  channels  through  which  valuables  of 
every  class  shall  be  transported  at  nominal  rates  and 
with  entire  safety — the  contemporary  merchant  will 
look  back  on  these  days  of  fancied  progress  with  as 
much  amusement  as  we  are  wont  to  regard  the  meagre 
postal  facilities  which  were  enjoyed  by  our  forefathers 

207 


208  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

in  early  colonial  times,  when  the  departing  mails 
were  "published"  in  advance  on  the  meeting-house 
doors. 

Scarcely  more  than  a  century  ago  all  correspondence 
was  transmitted  from  Philadelphia  to  New  York  by 
lumbering  stage-coaches,  which  occupied  three  days  on 
the  journey,  while  twenty-four  days  were  consumed  by 
the  post  between  the  first-named  point  and  Newport, 
Virginia.  Letters,  in  those  days,  were  charged  accord- 
ing to  distance,  the  rates  varying  from  eight  to  twenty- 
five  cents. 

The  first  post-office  in  Philadelphia  was  presided  over 
by  Colonel  Bradford,  in  17'28.  When  Benjamin  Franklin 
was  postmaster,  in  1737,  the  post-office  was  held  in  his 
private  house.  In  his  autobiography  Franklin  thus 
writes  of  his  appointment :  "I  accepted  it  readily,  and 
found  it  of  great  advantage,  for,  though  the  salary  was 
small,  it  facilitated  the  correspondence  that  improved 
iny  newspaper,  increased  the  number  demanded,  as  well 
as  the  advertisements  to  be  inserted,  so  that  it  came  to 
aftbrd  me  a  considerable  income."  The  business  of  the 
office  and  the  additions  to  its  machinery  must  have 
increased  very  rapidly  during  the  next  half  century, 
as  the  commissions  accruing  to  the  position  in  1797  ex- 
ceeded by  several  hundreds  of  dollars  the  present  salary 
of  the  postmaster.  In  the  year  1789  Kobert  Patton  was' 
placed  in  charge  of  the  office,  and  an  interesting  adver- 
tisement relating  to  the  establishment  of  post-coaches 
for  the  ensuing  year,  with  the  dates  of  their  arrival  and 


O 


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o 

Q 
a; 
H 


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o 

O 


QC 


THE  PHILADELPHIA  POST-OFFICE.         211 

departure,  was  inserted  by  him  in  a  magazine  of  that 
date,  in  which  it  is  set  fortli  that : 

"The  Western  Mail  for  Lancaster,  York-Town,  Carlisle, 
Shippensburg,  C'hambersbiug,  Bedford  and  Pittsburg,  will 
close  on  Thursday,  the  7th  January,  at  sunset,  and  after 
wards  on  every  second  Thursday  through  the  year,  and 
will  arrive  on  the  next  Thursday  morning." 

The  notice  concludes  with  the  following  advice  : 
"As  there  are  several  places  of  the  same  name  in  the 
United  States,  the  merchants  and  others  are  requested  to 
be  very  particular  in  the  direction  of  their  letters,  in  order 
to  prevent  their  being  wrong  sent ;  and  when  letters  are 
not  for  a  post  town,  the  nearest  post  town  to  the  place 
ought  to  be  mentioned.  As  the  utmost  punctuality  is  ne- 
cessary, it  is  requested  that  letters  will  be  left  in  due  time, 
otherwise  they  will  be  detained  until  next  post  day." 

The  Philadelphia  Post-Offlce  has  been  located  since 
1728  in  about  twenty  places,  and  has  been  presided  over 
by  thirty  postmasters.  In  1834  it  was  situated  in  the 
Philadelphia  Exchange.  When  the  present  building 
was  first  occupied  by  the  department  in  1863  it  was  con- 
sidered one  of  the  most  extensive  and  conipletely-ap- 
l)oiuted  establishments  of  the  kind  in  the  country.  Now 
it  is  wholly  inadequate  for-the  proper  transaction  of  the 
immense  business  which  falls  to  its  share.  The  interior 
of  the  office  presents  the  appearance  of  a  huge  bee-hive. 
All  the  three  hundred  clerks  are  busily  engaged  in 
the  discharge  of  their  respective  duties,  and  the  three 
hundred  carriers  are  occupied  at  their  tables  "set- 
ting up  their  hands"  for  delivery.  The  postmaster 
is  deeply  absorbed  in  answering  his  voluminous  mail, 


212  A  SYLVAN'  CITY. 

or  may  be  seen  circulating  among  the  various  depart- 
ments overseeing  the  work — with  the  smallest  details 
of  which  he  has  made  himself  familiar — suggesting 
improvements  here,  or  instituting  I'eforms  there,  and 
giving  personal  supervision  to  every  branch  of  the 
service.  In  the  front  of  the  office  two  men  are  en- 
gaged in  raking  from  a  broad  shelf  into  baskets  the 
letters  and  papers  which  are  constantly  showering  in. 
These  are  immediately  carried  to  the  stamping  tables 
for  cancellation.  Here  a  dozen  men  may  be  seen  stamp- 
ing at  the  rate  of  one  hundred  letters  each  per  minute, 
and  the  thump,  thump  of  the  descending  stamps  is 
heard  from  dawn  until  far  into  the  night.  Farther 
back  in  the  office  sacks  of  papers  are  being  hauled  into 
the  "ring"  and  emptied  on  tables,  where  men  are  en- 
gaged in  sorting  them  by  states  and  cities,  which  is 
done  by  pitching  them  into  square  partitions  arranged 
around  the  circle  and  extending  up  to  the  ceiling.  On 
the  outside  of  these  shoots  canvas  bags  are  attached  bv 
means  of  hooks.  When  the  apertures  become  full,  bolts 
are  drawn,  the  backs  are  opened  and  the  papers  tum- 
bled into  the  sacks,  which  are  then  tied  up  and  shipped 
by  mail  wagons  to  the  various  depots.  In  the  stamp  and 
postal  card  departments  clerks  are  constantly  occupied 
in  supplying  the  demands  of  purchasers,  the  sales  of 
some  days  aggregating  nine  thousand  dollars.  For  the 
accommodation  of  citizens  residing  at  a  distance  from 
the  office,  the  postmaster  has  recently  established,  in 
various  parts  of  the  city,  fifty  agencies  for  the  sale  of 


THE    merchants'    EXCHAXGE    AS    A    POST-OFFICE. 


THE  PHILADELPHIA  POST-OFFICE.         215 


postage  stamps.  The  extent  of  business  transacted  in 
the  Philadelphia  Post-Office  may  be  understood  when  it 
is  known  that  during  the  past  year  nearly  three  millions 
of  dollars  were  disbursed  from  the  money  order  win- 
dows. 

The  free  delivery  system,  under  the  direct  supervision 
of  the  postmaster,  extends  over  the  entire  county,  cov- 
ering an  area  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-nine  square 
miles,  and  requiring  the  services  of  about  four  hundred 
and  twenty-five  letter  carriers,  or  nearly  eight  hundred 
employes  in  all.  Besides  the  central  office  there  are 
twenty-six  sub-stations  located  in  different  sections  of 
the  city,  the  largest  of  which  are  the  West  Philadelphia, 
Germantown,  Manayunk,  Frankford  and  Eichmond 
offices.  For  the  prompt  conveyance  of  carriers  from 
the  main  office  to  the  central  and  outlying  districts 
thirteen  coaches  are  in  constant  use,  Philadelphia  being 
the  only  city  where  this  admirable  system  is  in  vogue. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  more  promising  field  for  the 
study  of  human  nature  in  all  of  its  phases  than  a  large 
post-office.  Many  and  curious  are  the  characters  who 
daily  resort  hither  to  inquire  for  letters  which  never 
arrive,  or  who  find  in  the  bustling  corridors  a  fascina- 
tion which  they  cannot  resist.  For  years  a  shabby 
man  appeared  regularly  at  the  retail  stamp  window,  as 
the  clock  was  striking  one,  and  purchased  a  one-cent 
stamp.  This  seeming  mania  finally  being  noticed  by 
the  clerks,  acquired  for  him  the  appellation  of  "  Old 
One-One." 


216  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

"Mister,"  said  a  rural-looking  female  one  day,  "will 
you  give  me  a  three  cent  stamp — and  put  it  on  for  me, 
please,  as  I  am  a  stranger  in  the  city."  On  another  oc- 
casion, a  man  brought  to  one  of  the  windows  ten  dollars 
in  silver,  which  he  desired  to  have  sent  by  registered 
mail.  When  informed  that  he  could  not  send  so  much 
coin  in  a  letter,  but  must  procure  a  note,  he  replied, 
with  great  disgust,  "An'  shure  wasn't  I  afther  bring- 
in'  a  bill  wid  me  at  furst,  whin  I  see  signs  arovmd  on  the 
finces,  ^post  no  bills,''  so  wid  that  I  had  me  note  changed 
into  spashee  to  plaze  yez."  A  few  days  before  Christ- 
mas a  stout  lady  presented  for  maihng  a  large  paper 
box,  which,  upon  inquiry,  was  found  to  contain  two 
enormous,  freshly-made  mince  pies,  which  she  wished 
to  send  to  her  daughter  in  California.  On  being  told 
that  such  articles  were  unmailable,  she  berated  the 
clerk  soundly  for  his  impertinence,  and,  with  great  indig- 
nation, departed  in  quest  of  a  more  accommodating  oflice. 
An  aspirant  for  diplomatic  honors  one  day  handed  to 
the  foreign  clerk  a  formidable-looking  document  ad- 
dressed to — 

Mk.  Minister  K , 

Care  of  Queen  Victory, 

England, 

and  after  waiting  to  see  that  it  was  properly  disposed 
of,  tui-ned  away  with  an  air  of  one  who  would  not  be 
trifled  with. 

Many  letters  are  consigned  to  the  mails  whose  direc- 
tions are  puzzling  and  often  illegible.  The  average 
Celtic  and  Teutonic  superscription  is  particularly  be- 


THE  PHILADELPHIA  POST-OFFICE. 


219 


wildering,  usually  covering  the  face  and  frequently  both 
sides  of  the  envelope.  The  writing  of  proper  names  is 
often  moi'e  original  than  orthographic,  and  although 
men  are  constantly  employed  in  deciphering  these  ad- 


USli^. 


—t  .-7—, 


COLLECTING. 


220  A  SYLVAN'  CITY. 

dresses,  they  ofteu  meet  with  examples  which  tax  their 
ingenuity  to  the  utmost.  A  letter  was  received  at 
Philadelphia  bearing  the  somewhat  comprehensive  di- 
rection : 

LIZBET   HUNKYFOOT, 

ritsburg  Bhiladelfy 

A\'est,  Camden 

conty  Pensilvanie  merakaie, 

and  another  directed  to — 

Mr. , 

Frill  Delpuldobur 

Sproose  Stree 

No.  410131, 

with  the  request  "i/"e  not  ford  plese  reture  "  written  in 
the  corner. 
A  third  addressed  to — 

B jvi , 

PoUscaunte  Perkasie 
Stetseii 
Panecyvlia, 

was  finally  translated  : 

Bucks  County, 

Perkasie  Station, 

Pennsylvania. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  such  letters  find  their  way 
eventually  to  the  "  Tet  Leter  of  re  "  at  "  Washingthon,'''' 
as  one  correspondent  had  it.  About  Christmas  time 
the  average  small  boy  lays  his  plans  for  a  rich  harvest  of 
toys.  He  floods  the  mails  with  epistles  addressed  to 
Mr.  Santa  Claxis^  Esq.^  Santa  Claus  Station,  North  Pole, 
Pennsylvania,  and  each  year  bundles  of  such  letters  are 
forwarded  to  the  Dead  Letter  Office. 

The  new  Post-Office  building,  now  in  course  of  erec- 
tion on  Ninth  Street,  is  believed  by  some  to  be  very 


THE  PHILADELPHIA  POST-OFFICE. 


223 


appropriately  located  on  the  spot  where  Franklin  drew 
the  Uffhtninsr  from  the  clouds.  If  such  is  the  case,  the 
noble  structure  will  form  a  fitting,  though  unintentional, 
memorial  to  one  of  our  earliest  postmasters,  who  after- 
ward became  Postmaster-General  of  the  United  States. 
The  new  building,  which  is  under  the  supervision  of 
James  G.  Hill,  Esq.,  of  the  Treasury  Department  at 
AVashington,  is  in  the  style  of  the  Italian  renaissance, 


AT    THE    RAILROAB    ELEVATOR. 


the  material  being  granite  from  Virginia  and  Maine. 
The  mass  of  the  structure  will  be  four  and  the  remain- 
der six  stories  in  height.  The  main  frontage  is  on 
Xinth  Street,  where  the  lock-boxes,  general  delivery  and 
stamp  windows  will  be  situated,  with  minor  fronts  on 
Chestnut  and  Market  Streets.  With  the  exception  of  the 
Chicago  Post-Office,  it  will  be  the  largest  and  most  com- 
plete building  of  its  kind  in  the  country.     The  post- 


224 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


A   MOMENT    OF   LEISURE. 


master's  private  office  will  be 
located  in  the  southeastern 
corner,  while  the  assistant 
postmaster  and  cashier  will 
occupy  the  apartments  to  the 
west  of  the  Chestnut  Street 
entrance.  The  court,  which 
is  to  be  covered,  will  be  de- 
voted to  the  carrier  and  mail- 
ing departments,  and  the 
registry  rooms  will  be  situ- 
ated in  the  rear  of  the  building  next  to  Market  Street. 
The  southern  half  of  the  second  floor  Avill  probably 
be  occupied  by  the  money  order  and  inspector's  de- 
partments, while  the  northern  portion  is  intended  to 
be  set  apart  for  the  United  States  Courts.  Four  ele- 
vators will  run  from  the  basement  to  the  vipper  sto- 
ries, and  every  modern  improvement  which  can  in  any 
way  facilitate  the  transaction  of  business,  or  contribute 
to  the  comfort  and  convenience  of  the  public,  will  be 
added.  The  fine  group  of  statuary  which  surmounts 
the  main  entrance,  or  rather  stands  high  above  it, 
with  the  dark  slate  of  the  mansard  for  a  background, 
is  the  work  of  Mr.  S.  French.  It  is  composed  of  three 
allegorical  figures  representing  Law,  Armed  Force,  and 
Prosperity.  On  the  left  is  a  male  figure  seated  leaning 
on  a  sword,  on  the  right  is  Prosperity  with  the  overflow- 
ing cornucopia  of  classic  fable,  while  between  and  above 
them  both  stands  a  female  figure  clad  in  a  coat  of  mail 


THE  PHILADELPHIA  POST-OFFICE. 


227 


and  holding  aloft  the  table  of  the  law,  in  recognition  of 
the  hoped-for  future  when  armed  force  shall  be  only  the 
subject  of  the  higher  authority  represented  by  reason. 
The  architects  promise  to  have  the  building  ready  for 
occupancy  within  the  next  two  years,  provided  the 
necessary  appropriations  are  forthcoming,  and,  when 
finished,  Philadelphians  will  pride  themselves  in  the 
possession  of  one  of  the  handsomest  and  roomiest  post- 
offices  to  be  seen  in  any  city  of  the  globe. 


OFF   FOR   THE   DEPOT. 


CITY  HALL  SQUARE. 


The  story  of  City  Hall  Square  is  a  tale  of  a  dream  that 
came  true.  When  one  realizes  that  at  the  time  William 
Penn  planned  his  city  it  was  a  wilderness  and  the  site  of 
City  Hall  Square  was  a  woods  visited  only  by  wild  birds 
and  probably  an  occasional  deer,  and,  of  coiu-se,  known  to 
the  Indians  dwelling  in  this  vicinity,  the  gifted  vision  of 
the  city's  founder  becomes  appreciated. 

In  1682,  or  16S3,  as  some  later  writers  will  have  it,  the 
•city  of  Philadelphia  was  planned,  and  the  feature  of  that 
plan  was  the  provision  for  a  great  civic  center,  by  far  the 
most  ambitious  piece  of  city  planning  the  world  had  seen 
up  to  that  time.  It  is  quite  true  Penn's  idea  has  been 
carried  out  only  in  part,  but  his  intention  that  Broad  and 
Market  Streets  should  be  the  city's  business  and  govern- 
mental center  has  been  more  than  realized.  It  is  today 
what  Penn,  in  his  most  creative  dreams,  would  have  had 
it.  But  in  his  time  it  was  soon  understood  that,  like  all 
the  ideas  that  make  the  world  a  better  place  to  live  in,  the 
plans  were  far  in  ad\ance  of  the  founder's  generation. 

Although  the  original  description  of  his  city,  the  capital 
of  his  Province,  provided  for  the  cfearing  of  an  open  square 
at  the  junction  of  the  town's  two  principal  thoroughfares, 
and  for  the  erection  of  a  meeting  house,  court  house,  and 
provincial  Government  buildings  around  it,  it  was  not 
until  the  beginning  of  the  last  century  that  the  Square 

229 


230  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

was  formally  laid  out,  and  even  then  it  was  a  circle,  and 
not  a  square. 

It  is  not  known  definitely  when  the  fourteenth  street 
from  the  Delaware  River  received  its  present  name,  Broad 
Street,  and  neither  is  it  possible  to  assert  upon  any  au- 
thority whether  the  first  Friends'  Meeting  House  was 
erected  at  the  junction  of  these  thoroughfares  or  whether 
it  was  built  at  Twelfth  and  Market  Streets,  which,  accord- 
ing to  Holme's  plan  of  1683,  was  the  city's  center.  There 
are  those  who  are  willing  to  accept  this  latter  view,  and, 
indeed,  it  is  said  this  view  was  entertained  by  the  pro- 
jectors of  the  building  of  the  present  Friends'  Meeting 
House  on  Twelfth  Street  south  of  Market  when  it  was 
erected  in  1812. 

There  is  the  evidence  of  Robert  Turner,  one  of  the  first 
purchasers  of  lots  in  Philadelphia,  that  a  meeting  house 
was  erected  at  the  junction  of  Broad  and  High  (or  Market) 
Streets  in  1685.  Under  date  of  August  3d,  in  that  year, 
he  wrote  to  Penn,  "We  are  now  laying  the  foundation  of 
a  new  brick  meeting  house  in  the  Centre  (60  feet  long  and 
about  40  feet  broad),  and  hope  to  soon  have  it  up;  there 
being  many  hearts  and  hands  at  work  that  will  do  it.  A 
large  meeting  house,  50  feet  long  and  38  broad,  also  is 
going  up  in  the  front  (street)  of  the  river  for  an  evening 
meeting." 

If  the  builders  of  the  Center  Meeting  had  cudgelled 
their  brains  to  select  an  inconvenient  site  for  their  meeting 
house  in  1685,  they  probably  could  not  have  improved  on 
the  location  they  decided  upon  as  the  city's  "center." 


CITY  HALL  SQUARE.  231 

In  that  year  Broad  and  High  Streets,  w  liether  we  assume 
it  was  the  twelfth  or  the  fourteenth  street  from  the 
River,  certainly  was  far  from  the  city's  actual  center.  It 
is  difficult  to  imagine  the  state  of  mind  that  could  con- 
ceive the  city  could  quickly  be  made  to  reach  out  so  far 
westward.  But  when  we  realize  that  no  city  or  town  in 
America  became  so  quickly  populated  as  Philadelphia 
during  the  first  century  of  its  existence,  we  are  able  to 
pardon  the  pride  that  at  least  displayed  both  enterprise 
and  vision.  However,  the  meeting  house  was  erected 
and  the  members  attended  services  for  a  time.  They 
picked  their  way  out  Market  Street  on  Sunday  mornings 
along  the  rough  cartway,  or  road,  which  represented  the 
thoroughfare  in  the  early  days  of  the  city.  Part  of  the 
distance  the  path  led  through  woods,  and  the  good  Friends 
disturbed  the  wild  turkeys  and  an  occasional  deer  as 
they  passed.  The  futility  of  maintaining  such  an  incon- 
venient place  of  worship  resulted  in  the  abandonment  of 
the  meeting  house  in  a  short  time  and  the  removal  of  the 
edifice. 

In  the  letter  of  William  Penn  to  the  Committee  of  the 
Free  Society  of  Traders,  published  in  London  in  1683, 
which  contains  Holme's  "Portraiture"  or  plan  of  Phila- 
delphia as  laid  out  by  him,  there  is  a  description  of  the 
city  as  planned.  From  this  we  learn  that  "In  the  center 
of  the  City  is  a  Square  of  ten  acres;  at  each  angle  are  to 
be  Houses  for  public  affairs,  as  a  meeting  house.  Assembly 
or  state  house,  market-house,  school-house,  and  several 
other  buildings  for  public  concerns."     While  Penn,  who 


232  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


lived  to  be  an  old  man,  did  not  see  this  grand  idea  for  a 
civic  center  realized,  his  words  were,  in  a  sense,  prophetic, 
for  at  one  time  or  another  all  these  buildings  for  "public 
affairs,"  excepting  only  a  state  house,  have  been  located  in 
City  Hall  Square,  and  this  locality  today  is  really  the 
city's  center;  its  heart,  from  which  the  arteries  stretch 
out  to  every  section  of  the  municipality,  although  it  is 
not  now  the  geographical  center,  which  point  has  been 
calculated  to  lie  in  the  vicinity  of  Fifth  Street  and  the 
New  York  Division  of  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad. 

While  it  has  been  asserted  frequently  that  Franklin 
conducted  his  epochal  experiment  with  a  kite  in  the 
summer  or  fall  of  the  year  1752  in  the  vicinity  of  Ninth 
and  Chestnut  or  Market  Streets,  the  fact  is,  the  location  is 
not  mentioned  by  Franklin  in  his  letter  to  his  friend 
Peter  CoUinson.  The  experiment  is  sometimes  referred 
to  as  having  been  made  on  the  commons,  near  the  city. 
This  leaves  the  location  open  to  some  doubt.  At  the  time 
the  Commons  was  the  site  of  the  present  City  Hall  Square, 
and,  as  it  was  an  open  space,  and  probably  had  been  since 
the  city  was  first  laid  out,  one  might  be  justified  in  suggest- 
ing that  Broad  and  Market  Streets  saw  the  first  experi- 
ment with  a  kite  and  a  key  by  which  Franklin  demon- 
strated that  lightning  and  electricity  were  the  same. 

There  is  all  the  more  reason  to  believe  that  Franklin 
went  to  Broad  and  Market  Streets  to  conduct  his  lightning 
experiments  when  it  is  understood  that  about  that  time 
the  Center  Square,  or  Commons,  was  the  people's  pleasure 
grounds.    It  was  the  Park  of  Philadelphians  in  the  mid- 


CITY  HALL  SQUARE.  233 

eighteenth  century.  There  they  held  their  picnics;  there 
they  raced  their  fast  horses,  and  on  holidays  it  was  the 
end  of  their  strolls.  It  was  a  natural  place  for  Franklin 
to  conduct  his  experiments  by  reason  of  its  remoteness 
from  the  populated  part  of  the  city  and  by  reason  of  the 
openness  of  the  Commons,  for  lying  between  the  broad 
street  and  the  built-up  part  of  the  city  lay  a  fairly  thick 
patch  of  trees,  known  generally  in  those  days  as  the 
Governor's  Woods. 

However,  Dr.  William  Smith,  provost  of  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania,  in  the  course  of  his  Eulogium  delivered 
the  year  after  Franklin's  death,  states  that  the  philosopher 
went  into  a  field  in  which  there  was  an  unused  building, 
and  there,  with  only  his  son  for  companion,  drew  the 
lightning  from  the  clouds. 

Horse  racing  was  early  a  popular  sport  with  the  young 
bloods  and  farmers  in  the  neighborhood  of  Philadelphia. 
Race  Street  received  that  name  from  the  circumstance  that 
it  was  the  custom  to  race  horses  along  that  thoroughfare, 
and  also  from  the  fact  that  that  street  usually  was  the 
road  selected  to  take  the  horses  out  to  the  Commons  w'here 
the  more  formal  races  were  held.  The  Jockey  Club  used 
to  meet  at  the  Center  House,  a  tavern  or  inn  that  occupied 
a  part  of  the  site  of  Broad  Street  Station.  In  front  of  the 
inn  was  the  track  around  which  the  horses  were  run.  Wliile 
there  are  no  details  remaining  of  the  exact  character  of 
this  race  track,  it  may  be  said  generally  to  have  been  a 
half-mile  track,  and  it  is  scarcely  possible  that  the  horses 
were  timed. 


234  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


During  the  Revolutionary  War  Center  Square,  or  The 
Commons,  as  the  plot  was  always  called  by  the  Phila- 
delphians  of  the  period,  was  the  scene  of  many  military 
activities.  Local  troops  were  drilled  there.  Silas  Deane, 
writing  to  his  wife  in  May,  1775,  remarked:  "I  seriously 
believe  Pennsylvania  will  in  one  month  have  more  than 
20,000  disciplined  troops  ready  to  take  the  field.  They 
exercise  here  twice  every  day,  at  5  in  the  morning  and  at 
5  in  the  afternoon,  and  are  extremely  well  armed.  .  .  . 
The  Commons  west  of  the  city  is  every  morning  and 
afternoon  full  of  troops  and  spectators  of  all  ranks."  In 
September,  1781  two  divisions  of  the  French  Army,  on 
their  way  to  the  southern  scene  of  operations,  were  en- 
camped on  The  Commons.  There  were  about  6000  men 
in  the  French  contingent,  and  it  is  probable  that  their 
encampment  extended  beyond  the  present  limits  of  City 
Hall  Square. 

Early  Philadelphians  were  not  very  sanguinary.  An 
occasional  pirate  was  hanged  on  Windmill  Island,  which 
until  1894  lay  in  the  Delaware  River  between  Camden  and 
Philadelphia,  but  after  the  Revolution,  or  possibly  during 
it,  such  capital  punishment  as  was  meted  out  to  con- 
demned persons  was  executed  on  The  Commons. 

Some  romantic  criminals  were  sent  to  their  deaths  on 
The  Commons.  The  site  of  the  gallows  was  the  middle  of 
Broad  Street,  just  south  of  City  Hall.  For  those  who  like 
to  be  exact  in  details  of  this  kind  it  might  be  mentioned 
that  during  the  late  World  War  the  statues  and  rostrums 
erected  in  Broad  Street  south  of  City  Hall,  for  the  Liberty 


CITY  HALL  SQUARE. 


235 


236  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

Bond  activities,  occupied  almost  exactly  the  spot  where 
felons  went  to  their  doom  in  Philadelphia  during  the 
latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

Public  executions  fortunately  have  long  ago  ceased  to 
be  tolerated,  but  in  early  days  even  Philadelphians  did 
not  appear  to  regard  them  as  repulsive  exhibitions,  judging 
by  the  size  of  the  crowds  that  attended  them.  One  of  the 
earliest  official  hangings  on  The  Commons  on  which  there 
is  a  record  was  that  of  John  Moody,  who  was  put  to 
death  there  on  November  13,  1781,  upon  conviction  of 
being  a  spy;  it  having  been  shown  at  his  trial  that  he  had 
intended  to  seize  certain  books  and  papers  of  the  Congress. 
On  September  24,  1788  Abraham  and  Levi  Doan,  who 
were  members  of  the  historic  band  of  outlaws,  known  as 
the  Doan  Boys,  commemorated  in  one  of  the  novels  of 
Dr.  Robert  M.  Bird,  although  under  a  fictitious  name,  were 
hanged  on  The  Commons,  and  the  following  year  five 
"barrow  men"  were  hanged  there  in  one  day.  This  mor- 
bidly spectacular  event  was  held  on  September  18,  1789, 
and  appears  to  have  marked  the  last  of  the  hangings  that 
took  place  on  this  spot.  As  the  term  "barrow  men"  is 
all  but  incomprehensible  to  readers  of  the  present  day, 
it  may  be  pertinent  to  explain  they  were  convicts  who 
were  hired  out  to  do  paving  and  similar  work  on  the  city 
streets.  The  jail  at  that  time  was  at  the  southeast  corner 
of  Sixth  and  Walnut  Streets.  The  five  "barrow  men,"  it 
appears,  while  at  work  on  Market  Street  near  Thirteenth 
accidentally  discovered  a  drover  who  had  in  his  possession 
a  large  sum  of  money  just  received  from  a  sale  of  live 


CITY  HALL  SQUARE.  237 

stock.  The  "barrow  men,"  by  aid  of  their  accompUces, 
one  of  whom  was  a  woman,  managed  to  escape  from  the 
jail  that  night,  and,  visiting  the  place  where  the  drover 
was  stopping,  attempted  to  gain  his  money.  In  the  at- 
tempted robbery  they  killed  another  man,  were  quickly 
arrested,  tried,  and  hanged.  After  this  execution  for 
many  years  future  convicted  murderers  in  this  city  paid 
the  penalty  in  the  North  West  Square,  later  known  as 
Logan  Square,  and  now  the  center  of  beauty  of  the  Park- 
way, and  renamed  Logan  Circle. 

About  this  time  the  city  was  rapidly  building  westward, 
and  in  1790  became  the  Capital  of  the  United  States. 
In  accordance  iwith  the  progress  of  the  city's  improvements 
Broad  and  Market  Streets  became  the  center  of  interest. 
In  the  years  1798  and  1799  it  was  realized  by  the  leaders 
of  thought  in  Philadelphia  that  the  city  had  outgrown 
the  stage  when  the  water  supply  could  depend  upon  the 
domestic  pump,  and,  after  several  projects  for  bringing 
water  to  the  city,  a  plan  was  adopted  for  pumping  it  from 
the  Schuylkill  River  at  a  point  between  Market  and 
Chestnut  Streets,  carrying  it  to  Center  Square  and  there 
distributing  it  through  mains,  after  it  had  been  raised  to 
a  small  wooden  tank  by  means  of  a  steam  engine.  Phila- 
delphia's present  consumption  of  more  than  300,000,000 
gallons  is  in  striking  contrast  to  the  supply  then  available. 
The  mains  used  at  that  time,  specimens  of  which  may  still 
be  seen  in  the  museum  of  the  Franklin  Institute,  were  of 
wood,  being  merely  trimmed  logs  through  which  a  hole 
had  been  bored.     The  system  adopted  had  been  designed 


238  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


by  Benjamin  H.  Latrobe,  who  was  an  engineer  and  an 
architect.     Latrobe    designed    the    picturesque    building 
which   was   erected   in   Center   Square,   and   called   the 
Engine  House,  which  occupied  the  center  of  the  Com- 
mons.    The  beautiful  structure,  owing  to  its  shape,  was 
irreverently  alluded  to  by  Philadelphians  as  the  "Pepper- 
box." 
,      At  the  time  the  scheme  was  being  discussed  the  op- 
ponents of  the  plan  laid  great  stress  upon  the  mefficiency 
of  the  steam  engine,  which,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  still 
of  a  rather  primitive  design  in  1800.     However,  Nicholas 
I.  Roosevelt,  of  New  York,  agreed  to  fm-nish  a  piuBping 
engine  guaranteed  to  raise  the  water  to  the  stand  pipe, 
and  finally  the  plan  of  Latrobe  and  the  engine  of  Roose- 
velt were  adopted.     Roosevelt  was  brother  to  the  grand- 
father of  President  Theodore  Roosevelt. 

By  building  the  engine  house  at  Broad  and  Market 
Streets  the  whole  vicinity  profited  by  improvements  and 
new  enterprises  were  attracted  to  the  new  center.  The  or- 
namental marble  building  was  set  in  the  center  of  the  plot 
which  now,  for  the  first  time,  began  to  show  some  signs  of 
cultivation.  Walks  bordered  with  ornamental  Normandy 
poplars  were  laid  out;  the  greatest  sculptor  of  whom 
America  then  could  boast,  the  wood  carver  William  Rush, 
designed  and  carved  a  fine  fountain,  representing  the  Spirit 
of  the  Schuylkill,  which  was  set  up  in  front  of  the  Engine 
House.  Here,  then,  was  to  be  found  the  first  ornamental 
public  fountain,  and  one  of  the  first  municipal  water  works 
erected  in  the  United  States.    Philadelphians  were  quick 


CITY  HALL  SQUARE. 


239 


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240  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

to  appreciate  the  new  joy  which  this  httle  park  offered, 
and  on  Sunday  afternoons  and  hoHdays  Market  Street 
was  thronged  with  pleasure-seekers  on  their  way  to  Center 
Square.  During  the  War  of  1S12  Center  Square  was  the 
scene  of  many  celebrations  of  victories,  and  the  ill-fated 
young  painter,  John  Lewis  Krimmel,  has  left  us  two  char- 
acteristic merry-making  scenes  in  the  park  around  the  old 
Water  Works. 

On  January  1,  1801  the  Water  Works  were  put  into 
operation,  and  before  twenty  years  had  passed  work  was 
begun  on  a  larger  water  supply  at  Fairmount.  In  1822  the 
Fairmount  works  were  put  into  operation,  and  the  engine 
at  Broad  and  Market  Streets  soon  ceased  to  function. 
For  a  few  years  the  Philosophical  Society  made  use  of  an 
upper  story  in  the  Engine  House,  but  in  1828  the  building 
was  removed  in  accordance  with  a  plan  for  the  general 
improvement  of  the  site.  Up  to  this  time  a  wide  roadway 
encircled  the  Center  Square,  and  only  two  of  the  present 
foiu-  streets  bordering  the  location  were  laid  out.  One  of 
these  was  Juniper  Street  to  the  east,  and  the  other  was 
Filbert  Street  to  the  north.  Now  for  the  first  time  the 
Commons  were  planned  in  four  squares,  with  Market  and 
Broad  Streets  running  between  them.  There  also  was 
laid  out  and  paved  Oak  Street  to  the  west  of  the  squares, 
and  on  the  south  Olive  Street.  The  former  subsequently 
was  named  Merrick  Street,  in  honor  of  Samuel  Vaughan 
Merrick,  who  built  a  row  of  dwellings  on  the  site  of  the 
old  Lombardy  Garden.  After  the  Pennsylvania  Rail- 
road built  its  station  at  Broad  and  Filbert  Streets,  in  1881, 


CITY  HALL  SQUARE. 


241 


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242  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

the  name  Merrick  was  changed  to  Broad,  as  the  station 
was  named  from  the  first. 

On  the  site  of  Broad  Street  Station  in  the  days  before 
the  Revolutionary  War  there  was  situated  a  road  house, 
the  home  of  the  Jockey  Club,  which  had  its  headquarters 
here  in  1767.  The  inn  was  long  known  as  the  Center 
House,  from  it  being  located  in  the  center  of  the  old  city, 
but  early  in  the  nineteenth  century  the  grounds  were 
laid  out  as  an  amusement  place,  and  named  the  Lombardy 
Garden,  evidently  from  the  Lombardy  poplars  that  had 
just  been  introduced  in  Center  Square  around  the  Water 
Works.  Some  of  the  popular  singers  at  the  Philadelphia 
theatres  were  heard  there  in  summer  concerts.  The  resort 
also  was  later  known  as  Evans'  Garden,  from  the  name  of 
its  then  proprietor,  and  seems  to  have  been  abandoned 
about  1836,  when  Mr.  Merrick  purchased  the  property 
and  began  the  erection  of  his  row  of  splendid  dwellings,  in 
which  lived  some  prominent  Philadelphians. 

As  if  catching  up  with  the  belated  project  of  William 
Penn  for  Center  Square,  the  city  in  1814  established  a 
market  shed  in  Broad  Street  just  south  of  the  square.  It 
was  a  convenience  much  in  advance  of  a  demand,  and 
after  a  struggle  for  existence  for  about  a  dozen  years  the 
market  was  removed. 

Removal  of  the  Engine  House  and  the  remodelling  of 
Penn  Squares,  as  the  Center  now  was  named,  hastened  the 
development  of  the  neighborhood,  which  was  started  by 
the  erection  of  Latrobe's  temple-like  building.  The  first 
important  permanent  improvement  around  this  new  cen- 


CITY  HALL  SQUARE. 


243 


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244  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

ter  was  the  United  States  Mint.  This  structure,  which 
was  designed  by  WiUiam  Strickland,  was  begun  in  1S29 
and  the  building  opened  in  1833.  It  was  the  admiration 
of  two  generations  of  Philadelphians,  was  constructed  of 
Pennsylvania  marble,  like  so  many  of  the  public  buildings 
put  up  in  this  city  in  the  first  half  of  the  last  century. 
The  Mint  building  occupied  the  site  of  the  present  Widener 
Building,  and,  like  that,  had  its  front  on  Chestnut  Street. 

The  site  of  this  Mint,  the  second  one  built  in  this  city, 
must  always  be  a  historic  one  in  Philadelphia,  because 
from  one  of  its  second  story  windows  the  first  photograph 
taken  in  America  was  made  on  October  16,  1839  by  Joseph 
Saxton,  who  was  connected  wth  the  Mint.  Saxton,  an 
intelligent  man  who  had  a  desire  for  knowledge,  had  had 
considerable  scientific  experience,  and  when  he  read  a 
letter  from  Alexander  Dallas  Bache,  in  the  United  States 
Gazette,  of  the  work  of  Daguerre  in  France,  he  had  his 
interest  aroused  in  the  astonishing  and  mysterious  process 
of  sun  printing.  This  communication  from  Paris  appeared 
in  the  issue  of  the  newspaper  for  September  25,  1839. 
On  October  16th,  three  weeks  later,  Saxton  read  a  more 
detailed  description  of  the  process  in  the  American  Daily 
Advertiser,  another  Philadelphia  newspaper.  The  same 
afternoon  he  began  his  experiments,  which  have  become 
historic. 

Saxton  improvised  a  camera,  which  he  never  had  seen, 
from  a  cigar  box.  To  this  he  fitted  a  sun  glass,  a  little 
lens  sometimes  alluded  to  as  a  burning  glass,  as  his 
objective.    A  strip  of  silver  ribbon,  such  as  the  coin  blanks 


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246  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

were  cut  from  in  the  Mint,  was  used  for  his  plate.  Setting 
the  apparatus  on  the  sill  of  one  of  the  north  windows  on 
the  second  floor  of  the  Mint  Saxton  made  his  exposure. 
The  attempt  was  a  success,  and  the  result  was  a  photo- 
graphic image,  one  and  a  quarter  by  two  inches  in  size,  of 
the  upper  stories  of  the  Philadelphia  High  School  and  the 
State  Arsenal,  across  Juniper  Street,  on  the  site  of  the 
Wanamaker  Store.  Saxton  the  next  day  made  some 
other  exposures  from  the  second  story  windows  of  the 
Mint,  and  then,  early  in  November,  Robert  Cornelius,  a 
friend  of  the  photographer,  who  had  received  some  in- 
structions from  him,  made  the  first  portrait  by  the 
Daguerre  process  ever  made  in  the  world.  The  latter 
experiment  was  conducted  in  the  store  of  Cornelius. 
However,  the  portrait  making  was  directly  traceable  to 
the  effort  of  Saxton. 

Before  Stephen  Girard's  will  was  published  the  public 
school  system  in  operation  in  Philadelphia  was  rather  ele- 
mental in  character.  The  schools  were  generally  regarded 
as  only  fitted  for  charity  pupils,  for  "ragged"  or  pauper 
children.  The  munificent,  carefully-thought  out  plan  for 
a  college  for  orphan  boys  left  by  Gu-ard,  who  also  be- 
queathed about  $3,000,000  to  carry  out  his  ideas,  gave  the 
thoughtful  a  new  view  of  popular  education.  One  result 
of  this  was  the  establishment  of  a  High  School  for  Boys. 
The  State  had  received  a  large  sum  as  its  share  of  a 
surplus  from  the  Federal  Government,  and  the  Legislature 
generously  appropriated  $72,000  for  a  High  School  for 
Boys  in  Philadelphia.    Professor  Alexander  Dallas  Bache, 


CITY  HALL  SQUARE.  247 

who  had  been  elected  President  of  Girard  College,  was 
available  to  head  the  institution,  since  the  college  was  not 
ready  for  occupancy.  This  was  in  1837.  The  High  School 
was  erected  on  Juniper  Street  just  north  of  the  State 
Arsenal.  It  had  an  astronomical  observatory  presided 
over  by  Professor  E.  Otis  Kendall,  whose  fame  was  spread 
throughout  the  scientific  world,  for  it  was  in  this  observa- 
tory that  the  return  of  Encke's  comet  was  predicted.  At 
that  time  no  college  observatory  in  this  country  had  such 
admirable  scientific  equipment. 

The  State  Arsenal,  mentioned  as  being  one  of  the  build- 
ings shown  in  the  first  photograph  taken  in  America,  stood 
just  south  of  the  High  School  and  about  the  middle  of  the 
block.  Its  entrance  was  on  Thirteenth  Street,  but  the 
wall  on  Juniper  Street  had  a  large  gate  in  it,  and  material 
was  taken  in  and  removed  from  this  end.  The  site  had 
been  occupied  by  an  arsenal  from  1785,  although  in  1813 
the  original  wooden  structiu'e  gave  way  to  a  more  sub- 
stantial building  of  brick.  It  was  superseded  about  the 
time  Saxton  made  his  experiment  by  a  newer  building  on 
Filbert  Street,  and  was  finally  removed  in  1854,  when  the 
Pennsylvania  Railroad  Company  became  possessors  of  the 
lot  and  built  a  freight  station  on  the  property. 

At  the  southeast  corner  of  Juniper  and  Market  Streets 
there  had  been  a  horse  market  and  hotel  from  the  latter 
part  of  the  eighteenth  century.  At  one  time  the  sign  of 
the  Golden  Horse  hung  outside  the  small  hotel,  and  the 
stables  were  in  a  yard  that  opened  east  of  the  hotel  on 
Market  Street.     Close  beside  the  hotel  stood   a  small 


248 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


candy  store  in  the  fifties,  and  its  proprietor  became 
notorious  from  being  the  chief  actor  in  a  sensational 
murder  case.  This  was  Arthur  Spring,  who  coolly  mur- 
dered and  robbed  two  women,  and  was  hanged  for  liis 
crimes  in  Moyamensing  Prison  in  1853.  It  was  in  this 
year  that  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  Company  purchased 
all  of  the  properties  bounded  by  Thirteenth  and  Juniper 


N\H.W, 


OLD  HORSE  MARKET  INN,  SOUTHEAST  CORNER  JUNIPER  AND 
MARKET   STREETS. 


Streets  on  tlie  south  side  of  Market  Street.  The  lot  ex- 
tended to  a  narrow  thoroughfare  about  100  feet  north  of 
Chestnut  Street.  On  this  site  the  company  built  a  large 
freight  station,  but  by  the  year  1874,  owing  to  the  erection 
of  the  City  Hall,  which  would  close  Market  Street  to  its 
railway  tracks,  the  business  of  the  station  had  to  be  re- 
moved to  another  section  of  the  city.  The  old  freight 
depot  in  the  fall  of  the  year  1874  was  the  scene  of  the 


CITY  HALL  SQUARE.  249 

semi-centennial  of  the  Franklin  Institute,  which  gave  one 
of  the  largest  and  most  valuable  industrial  and  scientific 
exliibitions  that  ever  had  been  given  in  this  country.  In 
the  six  weeks  the  exposition  was  open  296,000  admission 
tickets  were  sold. 

Not  long  after  the  Institute  Fair  was  closed  the  old 
freight  depot  was  purchased  by  John  Wanamaker.  It  was 
not  known  immediately  that  the  great  Philadelphia  mer- 
chant had  bought  the  property,  and  the  news  came  as  a 
sensation  w'hen,  later,  it  leaked  out  prematurely  through 
the  action  of  a  committee  which  had  invited  Moody  and 
Sankey,  the  evangelists,  to  come  to  Philadelphia  and  give 
a  season  of  revival  services.  The  committee  believed  the 
old  freight  depot  could  easily  be  altered  for  the  purposes  of 
the  meetings,  and  paid  a  visit  to  Thomas  A.  Scott,  then 
president  of  the  Railroad  Company,  to  learn  upon  what 
terms  they  could  have  possession  for  the  revival.  It  was 
then  they  learned  that  Mr.  Wanamaker  had  bought  the 
property  and  the  committee  would  consequently  have  to 
communicate  with  the  new  owner.  It  happened  that  at 
the  time  Mr.  Wanamaker  was  in  Europe,  but  the  com- 
mittee cabled  him,  and  received  in  reply  a  message  thatlthe 
use  of  the  building  for  three  months  by  Moody  and 
Sankey  could  be  had  for  a  rental  of  one  dollar.  The  lease 
therefore  was  immediately  signed. 

From  November  21,  1S75  to  January  28,  187G  the  great 
evangelists  held  daily  services  in  the  old  freight  depot, 
attracting  thousands  at  each  of  the  210  sessions.  Prob- 
ably no  such  enthusiastic  religious  meetings  ever  had  been 


250 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


held  in  this  country  up  to  that  time  as  these  in  the  old 
freight  depot.  There  were  occasions  when  as  many  as 
13,000  persons  were  present,  and  the  total  attendance  for 
the  series  of  meetings  was  estimated  at  more  than  1,050,000. 
On  the  last  night  of  the  revival  the  new  owner  of  the 
property  had  a  host  of  carpenters  and  house  wreckers 
waiting  to  go  to  work  the  moment  the  services  were  at  an 
end  and  start  the  operation  of  transforming  the  dilapidated 
freight  depot  into  a  great  store.     The  last  echo  of  the  last 


jfl  I^T^y-'N^msi^ 


OLD   CAB    STAND    AT    BROAD    AND    MARKET    STREETS,    1871. 

hymn  had  scarcely  died  away  on  the  departing  assemblage 
before  the  workmen  were  tearing  out  the  old  preparatory 
to  constructing  the  new. 

On  May  6,  1876,  four  days  before  the  Centennial 
Exposition  was  formally  opened  in  Fairmount  Pai'k, 
Wanamaker's  Grand  Depot,  as  the  new  store  was  named, 
was  opened  for  business,  while  many  local  prophets 
smilingly  predicted  failure  of  the  gigantic  enterprise.  It 
was  the  largest  retail  store  in  the  city,  and  many  con- 
servatives honestly  believed  it  was  too  big  and  too  far 


CITY  HALL  SQUARE. 


251 


westward  to  succeed  in  the  retail  trade  then  centered 
around  Eighth  Street.  That  the  prophets  were  bad  ones 
the  present  mammoth  granite  building  known  as  Wana- 
maker's  tliroughout  the  country  is  the  best  evidence.  A 
year  after  the  opening  Philadelphians  received  another 


OLD  FREIGHT  STATION,   PENNSYLVANIA  RAILROAD,   MARKET 
STREET    FROM     13tH    TO    JUNIPER.      FROM    A    PHOTO- 
GRAPH    MADE     IN     1875.      IN     THE     BACKGROUND 
IS    SHOWN    CITY    HALL    IN    COURSE    OF    CON- 
STRUCTION. 

shock,  for  the  Grand  Depot  began  the  sale  of  dry  goods, 
and  not  long  afterward  the  store  was  extended  and  the 
first  American  Department  Store  was  well  along  on  its 
career. 

The  idea  of  a  great  Department  Store,  evidently  shaped 
somewhat   upon   the   lines   of   the   Bon   Marche,   which 


252 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


Aristide  Boucicaut  founded  so  successfully  in  the  Rue  de 
Sevres,  in  Paris,  very  quickly  outgrew  the  original  in  de- 
sign and  in  the  scope  of  its  development,  and  itself  became 
a  model  and  a  pattern  upon  which  the  American  Depart- 
ment Store  wherever  found  is  a  reflection  and  an  interpre- 
tation. It  has  been  a  fountain  of  enterprise  and  original 
conceptions  of  the  art  of  modern  retail  merchandising 


GRAND  DEPOT  IN  1876.     SITE  OF  THE  PRESENT  WANASIAKER 

STORE. 


methods.  The  first  store  to  be  electrically  illuminated 
was  the  Grand  Depot,  which  was  lighted  with  arc  lights 
supplied  from  the  store's  own  plant  in  1878.  The  proj- 
ect was  so  radical  that  it  is  said  one  local  business  man 
vainly  waited  several  hours  in  the  store  for  the  materializa- 
tion of  his  prediction  of  failure.  The  Grand  Depot  also 
introduced  the  modern  type  of  store  window  decoration, 


CITY  HALL  SQUARE.  253 

until  now  there  is  what  might  be  called  a  profession  of 
store  window  decorators.  The  old  way  was  to  fill  a 
shop  window  with  more  goods  than  could  be  easily 
digested  and  plaster  them  with  price  tickets.  The  newer 
way  was  to  revolutionize  all  this,  until  the  show  windows 
of  Wanamaker's  are  in  themselves  a  constant  source  of 
pleasure  for  the  eye,  and  frequently  educational. 

This  newer  kind  of  store,  as  would  be  expected,  went 
forward  continually.  At  first  the  expansion  took  the 
course  of  additional  stories;  then,  by  degrees,  the  whole 
Chestnut  Street  front  was  added  and  the  great  store  had 
a  city  block  for  its  own.  In  1909  it  was  decided  to  remove 
all  this  and  replace  it  with  the  monster  granite  structiu"e 
that  has  become  a  landmark  on  the  city's  sky-line.  In 
two  years  the  new  building  was  completed  and  President 
Taft  came  up  from  the  Executive  Mansion  at  Washington 
especially  to  take  part  in  .formal  ceremonies  of  dedicating 
this  great  mart  of  commerce. 

The  immense  structure  which  was  erected  without 
stopping  the  business  a  single  day  is  itself  a  monument  of 
enterprise  and  skill  that  has  set  a  standard.  In  the  great 
store  is  the  largest  organ  in  the  country,  which  is  daily 
heard  by  thousands  that  throng  the  establishment.  In 
fact,  the  entertainments  and  conveniences  offered  the 
Philadelphia  public  by  the  place  has  caused  it  to  be  re- 
garded more  as  an  institution  than  a  store. 

From  the  days  in  the  mid-eighteenth  century,  when 
horse  racing  was  an  attraction  around  the  Commons, 
City  Hall  Square  has  been  the  center  of  amusement  for  the 


254 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


people  of  the  city.  After  the  Square  had  been  laid  out  with 
walks,  trees,  and  shrubbery  around  the  old  Water  Works 
located  there,  two  summer  gardens  sprang  up  in  the 
vicinity.  On  the  site  of  Broad  Street  Station,  as  has  been 
mentioned  on  another  page,  stood  the  Lombardy  Garden, 
a  pleasure  park,  where  music,  and  what  we  now  would 
call  vaudeville,  but  of  a  different  character,  were  the 


GRAND    DEPOT    ABOtJT    1880.        VIEW    FROM    SOUTH    PENN 

SQUARE.      AT     THE     RIGHT     IS     SHOWN     THE     SECOND 

UNITED   STATES   MINT. 


attractions.  On  the  north  side  of  Market  Street  between 
Juniper  and  Thirteenth  Streets  stood  a  garden  known  at 
different  times  as  the  Tivoli  and  as  the  Columbia.  With 
the  disappearance  of  the  Water  Works  and  the  rearrange- 
ment of  Center  Square  into  four  grass  plots,  with  a  few 
trees,  and  the  further  development  of  the  neighborhood, 
these  places  of  amusement  passed  away.     In  a  building 


CITY  HALL  SQUARE.  255 

which  stood  on  the  north  side  of  Market  street,  from 
Fifteenth  to  Merrick  Streets,  Rothermel  painted  his  large 
historic  picture  of  the  Battle  of  Gettysburg. 

In  1837  a  movement  was  begun  to  erect  a  new  City  Hall, 
the  ancient  Town  Hall  at  Second  and  Market  Streets  being 
well  along  in  the  discarding  process,  and  the  projectors 
believing  the  proper  site  for  the  new  structure  would  be 
at  Broad  and  Market  Streets.  The  movement,  like  other 
progressive  measures,  was  allowed  to  die  calmly  and  peace- 
fully. It  was  regarded  as  too  ambitious  and  the  site  was 
even  then  looked  upon  as  too  far  westward.  But  at  dif- 
ferent times  the  project  showed  signs  of  returning  to  life, 
and  just  at  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War  was  beginning 
to  accumulate  some  force.  At  the  close  of  that  struggle 
the  plan  was  revived  and  pushed  through  the  devious 
paths  obstructionists  had  set  up  in  the  courts  and  in  the 
elections,  until  finally  a  Commission  was  created  by  the 
Legislature,  given  power  to  levy  taxes  for  the  purpose  of 
the  new  building,  and  the  City  Hall  was  erected. 

Work  was  begun  on  the  structure  in  1872,  and  the  build- 
ing was  virtually  completed  in  1901,  when  the  Commission 
was  abolished.  The  city  authorities  put  on  the  finishing 
touches  that  were  left  when  the  Commission  turned 
over  the  building,  and,  after  thirty  years  of  labor  and  the 
expenditure  of  more  than  $26,000,000,  Philadelphia  had  a 
City  Hall.  At  that  time  it  was  found  to  have  outgrown 
the  city's  business,  and  in  1922  work  was  begun  upon  an 
Annex  to  the  City  Hall  at  Broad  and  Race  Streets. 

City  Hall  Square  on  the  northwest  side  is  the  Eastern 


256  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


terminus  of  the  Parkway,  justly  regarded  as  the  greatest 
civic  improvement  ever  undertaken  in  the  United  States. 
Work  was  begun  on  this  beautiful  avenue,  which  links 
Fairmount  Park  with  the  city's  center,  in  1907,  and  in  1918 
the  thorouglifare  was  opened  for  its  entire  length  of  a  mile 
and  a  quarter.  It  had  cost  up  to  1920  about  $22,000,000, 
but  in  a  few  years  it  will  be  an  embellishment  whose  value 
will  far  exceed  the  initial  outlay. 

City  Hall  Square  being  acknowledged  the  center  of  the 
city's  life  and  business  is,  in  consequence,  the  center  of  its 
enormous  wealth.  The  real  estate  within  a  square  mile 
with  City  Hall  as  its  center  contains  more  than  one-third 
of  the  total  assessed  valuation  of  the  city's  129  square 
miles.  What  this  means  may  be  imagined  when  it  is 
stated  that  the  total  assessments,  not  including  many 
millions  of  exempted  property,  are  two  billions  of  dollars. 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.* 


The  seed-leaves  of  our  school  system  may  be  said  to 
have  sprouted  in  1683,  when,  in  fulfillment  of  a  provi- 
sion of  the  "Great  Law,"  enacted  by  authority  of  Wil- 
liam Penn,  it  was  declared  that  "schools  shall  be  estab- 
lished for  the  tuition  of  the  young."  The  first  in  our 
city  was  started  by  Enoch  Flowers,  and  a  small  sum 
was  charged  for  each  pupil.  In  1698  the  Quakers  opened 
another,  for  "all  the  children  and  servants,  male  and 
female" — the  rich  at  reasonable  rates,  the  poor  for 
nothing.  Later,  a  company  of  German  philanthropists, 
sustained  by  contributions  from  i-eligious  societies  in 
Europe,  began  to  open  free  schools  in  Pennsylvania.  In 
1756  these  were  well  established.  In  1790  a  provision 
of  the  Constitution  secured  the  founding  of  schools 
throughout  the  State,  in  which  the  poor  could  be  taught 
gratis.  During  all  this  period,  however,  the  benevo- 
lent but  mistaken  distinction  made  between  rich  and 
poor  seemed  to  turn  the  public  sentiment  against  them  ; 
they  were  called  "pauper  schools,"  and  were  despised 
by  the  one  class  and  shunned  by  the  other.  In  1827  a 
society  was  formed  in  Philadelphia  for  the  Promotion 
of  Education  in  the  State,  a  committee  opened  corres- 
pondence with  leading  educators  in  other  countries,  and 
*  See  Introduction. 
257 


258  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

their  efforts  finally  culminated,  in  1834,  in  the  enact- 
ment of  a  law  which  secured  free  education  to  all. 

This,  then,  was  the  beginning  for  us,  not  of  the 
Public,  but  of  the  Common  School.  Still,  the  plant 
was  so  weakly,  and  adverse  winds  so  strong,  that  its 
continued  life  was  by  no  means  certain.  The  very  next 
year  a  powerful  effort  was  made  to  uproot  it ;  and  then 
sturdy  Thaddeus  Stevens  strode  to  its  rescue,  and  with 
the  aid  of  the  then  Governor  Wolf,  who  engaged  if 
necessary  to  use  his  veto  power  in  its  behalf,  the  storm 
was  weathered,  and  the  free  school  for  all  became,  so 
to  speak,  indigenous. 

A  system  of  education  not  3-et  fift}^  years  old  is  still 
scarce  beyond  its  plumules  :  in  view  of  this  we  have  a 
right  to  consider  it  a  remarkably  fine  specimen.  In  any 
other  case  we  should  hesitate,  as  yet,  to  place  it  on  ex- 
hibition, except  to  urge  its  need  of  better  facilities  for 
growth,  which  is  the  purpose  of  this  article. 

Education,  in  a  free  country,  is  not  a  privilege,  but  a 
right,  and  every  citizen  has  a  right  to  the  best.  If  he 
suspect  that  he  is  being  served  with  a  low-grade  article 
it  is  his  business  to  investigate.  If  it  come  to  the  know- 
ledge of  a  Philadelphian  that  the  boards  of  education  in 
other  districts  employ  a  paid  superintendent,  he  ought 
to  ask  why  his  own  city  has  no  such  officer.  If  he  hear 
that  certain  methods,  unknown  to  his  own  youth,  teach 
children  to  read  without  tears,  he  should  say  to  the 
board  :  "  Examine  into  those  methods,  and  if  good, 
import  them."     If  a  rumor  reach  him  that  the  authori- 


/'  aiiii 
t   imiitiiiiiM 

»ili{*|''f";*'Ji;i«i 


t 

.  _  JlJliiliiii' 

jti^iiiGinii'iiiniiiiiiii'iinnnn 

1^1  riiiiiiii 
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-     "--     .-r  I  fl.;r>,r 


r_^ —  ■■*^  ^-^       ''- 


LUNCH   HOUR   AT   PHILADELPHIA   HIGH   SCHOOL. 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  261 

ties  of  Brussels,  by  faitliful  care  of  the  school  children, 
have  notably  improved  the  health  statistics  of  that 
city,  he  should  say  :  "Take  heed  to  the  health  of  my 
children;  that  is  one  of  your  first  duties."  In  short, 
he  should  first  learn  to  realize  the  need  of,  and  then  to 
demand  the  following  essentials  to  education,  in  almost 
every  item  of  which  Philadelphia  is  now  behind  the 
leading  cities  of  the  Union  :  Organized  management ; 
industrial  education  ;  more  school  houses ;  better  school 
houses  ;   better  teaching  ;  better  school  directors. 

I.  Organized  management  of  the  schools  by  professional 
IKiid  superintendents.  On  this  point  we  quote  from  the 
urgent  appeal  of  the  President  of  the  Board  of  Educa- 
tion. "The  absence  of  superintendence  in  our  schools 
is  an  anomal}' ;  there  is  no  knowledge  possessed,  by  any 
central  power,  of  the  character,  condition  and  needs  of 
the  schools  of  this  district ;  noAvhere  else  is  it  attempted 
to  conduct  a  school  district  of  half  the  proportions  of 
this  without  the  constant  supervision  of  trained  spe- 
cialists in  education.  .  .  .  When  there  were  but  few 
schools — and  that  is  far  in  the  past — they  could  under- 
stand each  other's  wants  and  plans,  and  conform  to 
them  ;  Init  this  is  now  impossible." 

Thirty-one  boards  of  direction,  with  thirty-one  theo- 
ries of  managing  their  business  affairs  and  instructing 
their  employes  !  Imagine  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad 
conducting  its  operations  on  this  principle.  And  yet  the 
public  schools  are  of  more  value  than  many  raih'oads. 

II.  Industrial  ediication.     This  is  a  demand  so  fresh 


262  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

that  we  have  scarcely  begun  to  reaUze  its  deep  signifi- 
cance ;  we  feel  that  something  is  wrong  ;  we  know  that 
man  cannot  live  bj'  text-book  education  alone,  and  we 
see  not  where  he  is  to  learn  the  art  or  trade  by  which  he 
must  earn  his  bread.  Time  was  when  the  lad  who  had 
mastered  his  three  R's  could  go  right  into  the  shop,  and 
into  the  family,  of  the  master  mechanic  whose  trade  he 
chose,  and  rise  step  by  step  to  a  knowledge  of  his  busi- 
ness. 

Kow  all  this  is  changed.  Our  trades-unions  dictate 
the  number  of  apprentices  to  be  allowed  in  any  one  es- 
tablishment, and  the  rest  are  helpless.  And  as  the 
times  change  we  must  change,  or  suffer  disaster.  Tlie 
two-inch  pot  which  successfully  developed  the  acorn 
will  soon  begin  to  cramp  the  growing  oak.  The 
time  seems  to  have  come  for  this  country  when  men 
and  women  must  be  prepared  for  their  life-Avork  by 
the  public  schools  or  not  at  all.  In  this  day  the  youth 
of  average  abilities,  turned  out  to  earn  his  living  witli 
only  the  old-fashioned  school  equipment,  has  not  been 
treated  justly.  He  has  received  his  little  quota  of  text- 
book facts  and  rules,  which  he  will  soon  forget,  because 
he  has  never  been  taught  to  associate  them  with  practi- 
cal, every-day  doings.  He  knows  that  3G0  degrees  make 
a  great  circle ;  but  what  a  degree  is  for,  and  what  earth 
or  heaven  wants  of  a  great  circle,  or  how  many  feet 
high  is  a  given  fence  or  house,  he  has  never  been  taught 
to  consider.  He  knows  that  "  a  prime  number  is  one 
which  has  no  integral  factors,"  but  it  doesn't  seem  to 


THE   GIRLS'    NORMAL    SCHOOL. 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS. 


26o 


help  him  a  bit  in  making  change  at  the  counter.  He  has 
no  notion  of  the  properties  of  common  things  ;  he  has 
had  no  practice  in  contrivance  ;  lie  cannot  use  his  own 
body  to  best  advantage  ;  lie  cannot  handle  tools  ;  he  not 
only  has  no  handicraft,  but  knovv^s  not  how  to  pick  uj) 
one  ;  and  his  lack  of  the  mental  alertness  which  a  proper 
training  of  his  senses  and  perceptions  could  have  given, 


DRAWING   IX   THE   GIRLS'   NORMAL   SCHOOL. 


-266  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


will  make  him  a  failure,  if  he  hire  himself  out  as  errand- 
boy. 

Nevertheless,  he  marries  a  girl  who  can  neither  sew, 
nor  cook,  nor  wash,  nor  set  a  table  well  enough  to  make 
her  living  should  the  necessity  arise.  How  should  she  ? 
Where  are  these  things  systematically  taught  ?  At 
liome  she  provides  wastefully  ;  she  has  never  been  told 
what  kinds  of  food  are  cheap  and  Avhat  dear  at  a  given 
price.  She  breaks  down  the  health  of  herself  and  her 
family  by  violating  every  known  law  of  hygiene,  because 
to  her  they  are  unknown  ;  sickness  disheartens  them  ; 
failures  imdermine  their  ambition.  Then  they  sit  down 
and  wail  for  help  from  public  funds  or  private  charity, 
and  soon  they  get  used  to  being  helped,  and  self-respect 
is  lost,  and  the  community  pays  their  board  until  they 
die.  Who  is  to  blame  ?  The  State  is  to  blame,  when  it 
opens  its  school-room  doors  and  sets  loose  its  youth  upon 
the  world  as  Alva  used  to  set  loose  his  prisoners  of  war, 
first  taking  off  their  arms  at  the  shoulders,  and  then 
allowing  them  to  live  if  they  could. 

No  man  has  a  right  to  say  "  the  world  owes  me  a  liv- 
ing," but  every  child  may  say  "  the  world  owes  me  the 
knowledge  of  a  craft  by  which  I  may  earn  my  living." 
The  sort  of  education  which  the  State  owes  to  each  of  its 
members  would  not  only  train  that  average  mind  to  its 
highest  general  capacity,  but  would  find  out  the  sort  of 
practical  faculty  most  pronounced  in  each  pupil,  and 
train  that  to  the  best  advantage.  It  would  teach  the 
use  of  all  ordinary  tools  ;  it  would  teach  the  principles 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS. 


267 


of  mechanics,  and  drawing  as  applied  to  mechanics ; 
and,  by  degrees,  it  would  establish  actual  trades.  It 
would  divert,  if  need  be,  fully  one-half  the  pupil's  time 
from  school-room  to  work-room ;  and  then  we  should 
discover  that  three  hours  a  day  rightly  spent  in  mental 
effort  gives  about  all  the  mental  result  of  which  a  pupil 


INIVERSITY    OF    I'EXNSVLVANIA — UKIGINAI.    BLILDINO 


is  capable,  and  that  a  change  to  the  exercise  of  another 
set  of  faculties  is  so  much  clear  gain.  And  seeing  that 
a  large  proportion  of  the  girls  of  our  public  schools  are 
obliged  to  earn  their  own  bread,  it  should  by  no  means 
exclude  them  from  the  advantage  of  the  work-rooms. 
There  are  many  occupations  now  followed  by  women, 
of  which  the  rudiments  at  least  can  be  taught  in  the 


268  A  SYLVJJ^  CITY. 


school.  Moreover,  in  woman's  universally-approved 
vocation  of  providing  for  the  wants  of  man,  why 
should  not  cooking  be  made,  at  one  stroke,  respectable, 
by  associating  it  with  chemistry,  and  constituting  it  a 
science  ? 

Not  all  the  moral  paragraphs  ever  composed  on  the 
Dignity  of  Labor  will  do  so  much  to  make  labor 
honored  as  the  one  fact  that  it  has  a  place  in  our 
general  system  of  education,  and  must  be  studied  by 
intellectual  methods.  Cooking  is  more  important  even 
than  sewing.  Why  should  it  not  be  taught  in  every 
public  school  ? 

The  Idea  of  industrial  education  can  no  longer  be 
smiled  down  as  visionary.  London  spends  $500,000  on 
it  annually,  and  there  is  scarcely  a  town  or  city  in 
Eui'ope  that  has  not  its  industrial  school.  The  St. 
Petersburg  Institute  of  Technology  displayed  at  our 
Centennial  Exposition  a  set  of  models,  showing  every 
stage  of  manipulation  in  iron  and  wood,  from  the  crude 
material  to  the  manufactured  article.  Philadelphians 
noticed  these,  and  thought  them  very  pretty ;  Bostoni- 
ans  noticed,  pondered,  went  home  and  erected  buildings, 
and  now  teach,  beside  the  higher  princii)les,  in  their 
School  of  Technology  "  the  elementary  branches  of  most 
of  the  trades,  as  moulding,  turning,  weaving,  carpenter- 
ing, smithery  and  the  rest.  The  students  divide  their 
time  between  these  and  their  books."  Is  there  any- 
thing in  Philadelphia's  climate  to  prevent  her  doing  the 
same  ? 


FIREPLACE   IN    THE   MCSEtJM — OLD    GERMANTOWN   ACADEMY. 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  271 

III.  More  school  ho^lses.  It  is  rather  startling  to 
those  who  believe  that  free  institutions  depend  for  their 
life  upon  free  education  to  find  that  "  while  the  city's 
population  increases  at  the  rate  of  about  25,000  annu- 
ally, the  appropriation  for  school  buildings  was  last 
increased  at  the  rate  of  accommodation  for  448."  But 
all  this  is  to  be  changed,  as  Councils  have  given  at  one 
sweep  $300,000  for  the  erection  of  new  and  the  repair  of 
old  buildings.  This  is  inspiring,  and  the  only  suggestion 
we  presume  to  make  is  that  there  may  be,  in  every 
class-room  of  every  new  building,  efficient  provision  for 
the  escape  of  foul  and  the  entrance  of  fresh  air.  This 
is,  of  all  architectural  problems,  perhaps  the  most  diffi- 
cult ;  but  its  importance  is  so  great  that  if  good  venti- 
lation is  to  be  found  anywhere  in  the  world  it  should  be 
found  here.  We  had  better  starve  a  child's  brain  than 
taint  its  blood.  That  there  is  need  of  such  a  susses- 
tion  is  shown  by  the  testimony  of  one  lady  whose  daugh- 
ter attended  a  handsome  new  school  in  the  upper  part 
of  the  city : 

"She  had  been  a  healthy  child  before  going  there,  but 
she  soon  began  to  have  headaches,  which  grew  so  frequent 
that  I  went  to  the  school  to  see  if  the  cause  might  be  there. 
I  found  that  tlie  ventilators  amounted,  as  usual,  to  nothing, 
and  that  the  times  when  a  window  was  lowered  were  rare 
exceptions.  'You  see,'  explained  the  teacher,  'if  the  win- 
dow is  open  we  have  to  use  more  heat,  and  then  the  prin- 
cipal up  stairs  sends  down  to  us  to  shut  it,  as  we  are 
cooling  his  rooms.'  And  in  this  school,  for  reasons  best 
known  to  teachers  or  directors,  the  requirements  regard- 
ing exercise  were  ignored.    There  was  no  recess  whatever, 


272  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

even  when,  as  in  bad  weather,  the  session  was  four  hours 
long.  And  the  girls  sat  in  that  poison  through  those  truly- 
mortal  hours  with  scarce  a  change  of  position,  not  even, 
as  pleaded  for,  five  minutes  to  march  round  the  room  and 
sit  down  again." 

This  careful  mother,  failing  in  her  appeal  for  humane 
treatment  in  the  school-room,  wisely  withdrew  her  child, 
to  lose  her  education  if  so  she  must,  but  at  least  to  save 
her  health. 

V.  Better  teaching.  There  are  in  our  schools  many 
teachers  whose  intelligent  devotion  to  their  work  cannot 
be  repaid  by  either  money  or  praise  ;  women  who  not 
only  appreciate  the  improvements  introduced  by  the 
Board  of  Education,  but  carry  them  out  in  spite  of 
great  disadvantages.  There  are  schools,  for  instance, 
where  the  lessons  of  the  morning  are  habitually  ex- 
plained the  preceding  afternoon.  There  is  at  least  one 
school  whose  lowest  division,  as  most  needing  intelli- 
gence and  experience,  is  taken  in  charge  by  the  high- 
est teacher.  We  all  know  womeii  whose  best  life  and 
thought  and  whose  best  years  of  life  are  put  into  the 
school-room, 

For  the  other  sort,  only  one  who  has  been  a  teacher 
can  jnstly  criticise  their  shortcomings  ;  only  she  knows, 
for  instance,  how  difficult  it  is  to  give  individual  atten- 
tion to  so  large  a  number ;  only  she  knows  how  much  of 
the  time  which  should  be  employed  in  actual  teaching  is 
wasted  in  the  mere  effort  to  keep  order.  With  fifteen  or 
twenty  children  in  one  room,  and  a  teacher  who  knows 
how  to  keep  her  pupils  at  work,  almost  the  whole  time 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS. 


273 


might  be  given  to  teaching  ;  with  twice  or  thrice  that 
number,  to  insure  tl\e  quiet  essential  to  class  work  a 
discipline  must  be  maintained  so  unnatural,  so  irksome 
to  a  healthy  child,  so  almost  brutal  in  its  exactions,  as 
to  irritate  and  demoralize  the  pupils,  to  weary  and  un- 
nerve the  teacher,  and  to  absti*act  an  immense  propor- 


fi 


l'/'.'-- 


&: 


-^-••«^ 


Ji^'-/S  '^^Vi^^i^: 


)i« 


til'' 


ir-.- 


UNION    SCHOOL    AT    KINGSESSING,  1778. 

tion  of  time  from  the  true  object  of  the  school.  "When 
Mr.  Parker,  Superintendent  of  the  Boston  Schools,  was 
urging  upon  our  teachers  more  individual  interest  in 
their  pupils,  one  of  them  asked  :  "What  would  you  do 
in  my  place  with  a  division  of  seventy  ?"  To  which  he 
could  only  reply,  "  I  should  pray  for  Philadelphia." 
Still  the  fact  remains  that  we  employ  many  teachers 


374  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

who  ought  not  to  be  trusted  with  the  care  of  any 
mother's  children.  It  is  sometimes  supposed,  by  direc- 
tors and  others,  that  the  object  of  the  pubhc  schools 
is  to  create  genteel  positions  for  interesting  young 
women,  but  this  is  far  from  th'^  +.ruth.  The  schools  are 
meant  for  the  children,  and  for  them  only  ;  and  if  any 
department  sutlers  from  incompetent  teachers  it  should 
be  re-officered,  even  to  the  point,  if  our  supply  of  "na- 
tive talent "  fall  short,  of  seeking  for  help  in  places 
where  teaching  has  longer  been  taught. 

Moreover,  the  present  method  of  examinations,  which 
demands  so  much  memorizing,  is  luifavorable  to  the 
broader  sort  of  instruction.  If  education  meant  simply 
the  fixing  of  certain  facts  and  definitions  in  the  youth- 
ful mind,  it  would  not  be  so  much  amiss ;  but  if,  as 
many  begin  to  suspect,  it  should  mean  instead  the  real 
awakening  of  that  mind  and  the  strengthening  of  its 
own  capacities  for  acquirement ;  if  it  is  the  larger  part 
of  our  business  to  make  the  pupil  want  to  learn,  and 
know  how  to  learn  ;  then  what  a  different  system  must 
we  employ,  then  what  a  world  of  explanations,  of  de- 
vices to  make  the  unaccustomed  subject  clear  to  the 
tender  brain,  of  pictures,  of  anecdotes,  of  experiments, 
of  free  question  and  expression  of  views  from  the  pu- 
pil ;  then  his  text-book  definition  would  be  simply  the 
starting  point  for  the  real  lesson,  and  for  the  class-room 
work  that  would  grow  out  of  it.  Then  every  such  point 
would  take  more  time — much  more  time — but  once 
learned,  it  would  not  be  an  isolated  formula,  inserted  in 


*..^' 


W;    fa 

'i'  11/ 

PROTESTANT   EPISCOPAL   ACADEMY,  1790. 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  277 

the  brain  as  by  some  mischance  a  bullet  or  needle  in  the 
bod}',  but  it  would  be  as  the  food  we  digest,  a  part  of 
the  blood  and  a  source  of  strength  to  the  frame. 
By  the  first  method  the  programme  is  naturally — 
"  Class,  attention  !  The-next-c  cography-lesson-is-from 
-what-does  -the  -  Eastern  -  Continent  -  comprise  -  to-  what- 
is-a-promontory-page-  13-anybody-that-  misses-two  -will- 
be-kept-in-till-he-knows-it.     Rise !     Pass !" 

By  the  other  method  the  teacher  would  have  her 
blackboard  ready  before  the  memorizing  of  the  lesson,  for 
the  children  to  draw  a  promontory,  a  bay,  «S:c.  She 
would  provide  a  vessel  of  water,  and  set  therein  a  pretty, 
tinted  papier  mache  island,  all  indented  with  sloping 
shores  and  dotted  with  trees  and  marked  with  pictured 
streams.  She  would  have  her  waiter  of  soft  clay,  out  of 
which  they  could  shape  a  continent,  and  make  hollows 
for  lakes,  and  pinch  up  the  mountains  to  their  relative 
heights ;  and  when  they  had  with  their  own  little  fingers 
created  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  there  would  be  small 
i-isk  of  being  "  kept  in  "  for  the  text-book  definition.  Or 
if  it  were  a  lesson  in  weights  and  measures,  she  would 
turn  that  purgatorj-  into  a  land  of  comparative  pleasance 
by  letting  them  stand  behind  a  counter,  and  illustrate 
with  real  scales,  and  something  real  to  weigh,  the  dif- 
ference between  Troy  and  Avoirdupois.  In  the  graded 
course  of  instruction,  nominally  now  in  eftect,  are  con- 
stantly recurring  such  provisions  as  the  following  :  "  Ex- 
planation of  meaning  and  use  of  words,  correction  of 
common  errors  of  speech,  location  of  prominent  places 


278  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

in  the  city,  familiar  talks  about  the  city,  object  lessons, 
familiar  talks  about  the  senses,  talks  about  conduct  and 
personal  habits,  systematic  physical  exercise  at  end  of 
every  hour." 

Are  these  points,  all-essential,  observed  by  the  teach- 
ers ?  How  many  directors  insist  upon  their  observance  ? 
How  many  parents  go  to  see  for  themselves  ?  One  of 
the  few  reports  to  this  effect:  "Connected  with  our 
Normal  School  is  a  School  of  Practice,  in  which  all 
the  newer  and  better  methods  of  the  day  are  supposed 
to  be  taught ;  but  these  newer  ways  very  seldom  get 
into  the  class-room ;  the  young  teacher  goes  from  her 
practice  to  her  school,  and  settles  down  to  the  dreary 
grind  of  memorizing  which  was  discarded  in  New  Eng- 
land thirty  years  ago."  The  grand  principle  seems 
to  be  that  one  process  of  driving  individual  nails  into 
that  one  faculty — the  memory  ;  the  best  teacher  is  she 
who  can  drive  the  largest  number  (to  hold)  in  a  given 
time  ;  the  best  examiner  is  he  whose  claw-hammer  ques- 
tions elicit  the  largest  number  of  these  with  the  fewest 
confusing  appeals  to  the  general  understanding. 

And  supposing  that  we  had  two  thousand  teachers, 
all  able  and  willing  to  teach  in  the  other  fashion,  they 
have  positively  not  the  time  to  do  it.  One  excellent 
teacher  said  to  a  visitor  :  "I  am  constantly  tempted, 
in  my  class-room,  to  deviate  from  the  text-book  and  talk 
about  the  lesson,  but  I  have  to  resist  this,  or  I  should 
ftill  behind  at  examination."  Another  confessed  :  "  It 
did  mortify  me,  at  the  last  examination,  to  find  that  in 


■//'',.    .M 


*--«Sa=i 


FIVE  MINUTES  LATE. 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  281 

answer  to  a  question  in  etymology,  every  one  in  the 
class  gave  the  same  sentence  as  an  illustration." 

Yet  it  is  plain  that  there  must  be  some  accepted  test 
for  promotions,  and  that  the  form  of  this  is  a  truly  diffi- 
cult problem.  It  can  only  be  claimed  in  this  regard, 
that  the  aim  of  examiners  should  be  to  discover  the 
general  development  of  the  chiUrs  intellect  at  the  seve- 
ral stages  of  his  education,  rather  than,  or  at  least  in 
large  addition  to,  the  number  of  unassociated  facts, 
dates  and  rules  Avhich  he  has  succeeded  in  memorizing. 
Nor  would  we  underestimate  the  value  of  drill,  pure 
and  simple.  Any  method  of  instruction  which  explains 
so  much  that  the  pupil  has  nothing  to  do  is  a  vicious 
method  ;  and  any  which  habituates  him  to  depend  for 
his  incentive  to  application  wholly  on  the  attractiveness 
of  his  subject  is  vicious.  lie  should  be  so  taught  that 
he  wants  to  learn  (that  is  one  half),  and  that  he  knows 
how  to  learn  (that  is  the  other).  And  to  this  end  a 
carefully-measured  proportion  of  his  mental  discipline 
should  consist  of  absolute,  patient  drudgery,  and  a 
small  proportion  of  the  closest  mental  concentration. 
He  should  have  his  thinking  powers  so  at  his  own  com- 
mand that  he  can  at  any  stated  time  set  himself  to  a 
task  and  make  himself  do  it. 

The  trouble  with  Alice  in  Wonderland,  when  she  tried 
to  play  croquet  with  the  queen,  was  that  nothing  was 
sure  to  stay  where  it  was  put.  When  she  had  her  hedge- 
hog neatly  rolled  up,  and  was  on  the  point  of  making  a 
good  stroke,  it  was  as  likely  as  not  to  unroll  itself  and 


282  A  SYLVAN-  CITY. 


amble  away  ;  or,  if  she  did  send  it  right  for  the  arch,  the 
arch  might  be  there,  or  it  might  have  straightened  up 
and  sidled  oft'  to  chat  with  its  neighbor.  And  so  with 
untrained  mental  powers.  Sometimes  they  are  there  and 
sometimes  not ;  sometimes  their  owners  are  capable  of 
intense  and  prolonged  apphcation,  but  only  when  they 
are  seized  from  without  by  an  idea  or  a  motive  which 
possesses  and  drives  them ;  but  in  the  other  case  they 
habitually  possess  and  have  power  to  use  themselves. 
"VVe  must  admit  that  even  the  memory  needs  careful  cul- 
tivation, but  we  feel  that  this  faculty,  while  it  may  be  in 
danger  of  over-strain,  is  in  no  danger  of  neglect  for  a 
long  time  to  come. 

VI.  Better  direction.  In  our  school-boards  there  are 
many  men,  and  lately  some  women,  of  known  ability 
and  culture,  who  devote  themselves  most  earnestly  to 
the  work  for  which  they  have  become  responsible  ;  but, 
in  association  with  these,  and  frustrating  their  efforts  at 
every  turn,  are  men  of— let  us  say  of  another  variety. 
"In  certain  states  of  this  Union  and  elsewhere,"  says 
the  President  of  the  Board  of  Education,  "  the  depart- 
ment of  education  is,  by  connnon  consent,  exempt  from 
the  use  of  party  leaders  and  folloAvers,  and  the  interests 
of  the  schools  are  consequently  safe. "  If  this  has  become 
possible  in  other  and  in  some  cases  younger  states,  might 
it  not  be  possible  in  ours  ?  With  a  proper  system  ot 
choosing  school  directors,  such  instances  as  the  following 
would  be  impossible : 


Kiiyny  Cof -r^er* 


THIRTY-EIGHTH   ST.    AND    DARBY   ROAD,    WEST    PHILADELPHIA. 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  285 

No.  \.  Early  morning.  Milkman,  {interrupted  in  his  chat 
with  Bridget  by  the  lady  of  the  house) — "Morning,  mum. 
Is  it  that  ye  're  goin'  to  fault  the  milk,  mum?" 

Lady. — "  Xot  at  all.  I  came  out  to  ask  your  influence 
as  school  director.  I  am  applying  for  a  situation  in  your 
ward." 

No.  2.  Teacher  (in  class-room). — "Not  pyanner,  Miss 
Smith  ;  it  is  pronounced  piano." 

Pupil. — '■'■No,  ma'am  ;  my  pop  says  pyanner  eveiy  time, 
and  he 's  a  director." 

No.  3.  A  Teacher,  obliged  to  consult  her  director  in 
sudden  emergency,  finds  inscribed  above  his  portal  the 
following  quaint  sayings  : 

"Lively  Boys'  Retreat."  "Free  Lunch  this  Day." 
"Pool  Played  for  Drinks." 

On  the  special  fitness  of  saloon-keepers  as  guides 
and  examples  for  youth,  public  opinion  speaks  clearly 
at  every  election  in  the  surprising  number  whom  it 
elevates  to  positions  of  immense  importance  in  child- 
ish eyes.  In  regard  to  the  large  proportion,  not  only 
of  mechanics  who  might  have  the  needful  education, 
but  of  common  day-laborers — this  is  a  free  country,  in 
which  it  is  our  boast  that  true  merit  can  rise,  irrespec- 
tive of  condition,  but  must  it  be  so  utterly  irrespective 
of  fitness  ?  Your  bod-carrier  may  be  virtuous,  though 
illiterate ;  he  may  not  use  his  power  to  get  situations 
for  all  the  females  of  his  tribe  who,  spite  of  general  uu- 
culture,  can  pass  a  routine  examination  ;  he  may  resist 
his  opportunities  to  provide  at  the  same  time  the  coal 
for  his  school  and  his  family  ;  as  a  laborer  and  as  a 


286  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


citizen  he  may  be  an  admirable  person ;  but  as  a  guide 
for  teachers,  a  chooser  of  text-books,  a  manager  of  school 
expenditures,  an  authority  on  school  methods,  an  arbi- 
ter of  the  destinies  of  education,  he  is  a  disgrace. 

To  repeat,  then,  we  need  to  bring  our  schools  to  a 
level  with   those  of  our  sis^ter  cities  in  these  matters. 
Paid  superintendence — that  would  be  an  economy  in 
every  sense  :  more  school-houses — these  we  are  to  have  : 
industrial  training — that  has  become  a  necessity  :  better 
teaching  —  men   and   women  of  education  and   public 
spirit  as  school  directors.     And  for  these  we  need,  per- 
haps not  more,  possibly  only  a  better,  use  of  money. 
How  is  the  money  used,  by  the  way  ?    In  what  direc- 
tions have  we  been  heretofore  extravagant  ?    Not  yet 
in  school-houses,  for  we  remember  that  there  are  still 
many  thousands  of  children  without  a  chance  to  learn 
to  read ;  not  in  repairs,  for,  bad  as  are  the  forty-five 
rented  buildings,  we  are  told  that  less  than  the  usual 
amount  of  repairing  Avas  done,  owing  to  the  lessened 
appropriation  of  Councils  for  the  purpose ;  not  in  the 
upper  departments,  for  the  chairman  of  the  High  School 
Committee  plaintively  remarks  :  "The  reduced  appro- 
priations have  cut   down  the  facilities  of  the   school 
and  the  pay  of  the  professors,  until  serious  danger  is 
threatened   to   the   institution."      And   the  President 
of  the  High  School  reports:   "The  appropriation  for* 
apparatus,  etc  ,  was  unfortunately  reduced  to  a  very 
small   and  insufficient  amount."     Not  in  obeying  the 
Scripture  injunction   m   regard   to  good  instruction— 


^l 


-^ 


s 


1    ^1i       / 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  289 


"Let.  her  not  go,  for  she  is  thy  hfe"— for  we  tind  that 
"in  September,  1880,  Prof.  EUhu  Thompson,  attracted 
by  better  pay  and  the  prospect  of  promotion,  resigned 
the  chair  of  chemistry  in  which  he  had  so  successfully 
labored  four  years."  And  the  record  of  another  valued 
laborer,  Prof.  AVilson,  reads:  "The  over-conscientious 
discharge  of  arduous  duties,  combined  with  the  anxiety 
caused  by  the  loss  of  nearly  half  his  salary,  had  under- 
mined his  constitution,  and  when  he  relinquished  his 
work  and  applied  for  medical  advice  he  was  already  a 
dying  man."  And  it  cannot  be  in  the  night  schools, 
although  we  might  forgive  a  little  lavishness  in  re- 
sponse to  the  plea  of  men  and  women  whose  daylight 
hours  are  spent  in  toil,  and  who  long  so  for  improvement 
that  they  are  willing  to  go  right  from  a  hard  day's  work 
to  the  school-room  every  night  to  get  it. 

]!^o,  there  was  no  wild  extravagance  here.  The  Board 
of  Education  decides  that  in  this  kind  of  schooling  "a 
continuous  term  of  four  months  is  necessary  to  produce 
a  substantial  result."  The  special  committee  declares 
that  this  calls  for  $-25,000 ;  the  City  Fathers  make  an 
appropriation  of  $7500 ;  and  the  night  schools,  conse- 
quently, close  in  just  four  weeks.  That  some  of 
the  pupils  at  least  want  more,  is  shown  by  the  fact 
that  a  series  of  evening  classes  for  working  women, 
started  last  fall  as  an  experiment  by  some  Philadel- 
phia ladies,  kept  in  session  from  October  15  to  the 
end  of  April,  giving  instruction  to  over  four  hundred, 
who  appeal  most  earnestly  for  resumption  next  year. 


390  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


But  there  is  still  another  way  in  which  our  city  author- 
ities may  have  been  a  little  reckless.  They  may  have 
read  the  reports  of  improvements  in  teaching  in  Bos- 
ton, New  York,  St.  Louis,  San  Francisco  and  elsewhere, 
and  become  annoyed  at  seeing  one  ship  of  education 
after  another  furl  its  old  canvas,  put  in  all  sorts  of 
modern  appliances,  and  steam  away  from  our  old-fash- 
ioned sailing  vessel,  leaving  her  almost  out  of  sight. 
They  may  have  become  convinced  that  the  best  teaching 
can  be  done  only  by  the  best  teachers,  and  that  superior 
ability  in  this  art,  as  in  all  others,  goes  where  money 
calls  it.  We  have  perhaps  been  spending  more  than 
we  could  afford  on  salaries  ? 

Well,  no  ;  unless  there  has  been  a  change  in  the  last 
two  years.  In  the  report  preceding  the  last,  the  president 
gives  the  following  comparative  estimate  of  salaries  : 

New  York,  average  salary  of  teacher,     .        .         .     $814  17 
Boston,  "  u  "...       978  35 

Philadelphia,    "  "  "...      486  14 

It  really  does  seem,  in  view  of  the  results,  that  we 
either  do  not  devote  to  school  purposes  a  sufficient  pro- 
portion of  the  money  handed  in  by  our  citizens,  or  that  it 
is  poorly  administered.  A  wise  mother,  in  considering 
the  claims  of  the  household,  apportions  the  largest 
means  to  the  profoundest  need.  If  there  is  not  enough 
we  ought  to  have  more,  if  even  we  get  along  with  fewer 
civic  dinners  and  fewer  patriotic  occasions,  and  perhaps 
rather  fewer  stone  dolls  on  our  very  stupendous  public 
buildings. 


OLD    GEKMAN    SCHOOL    ON    CHERRY    STREET. 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  293 

But  if  the  fault  is  in  unsystematic  expenditure,  a 
leaf  from  the  story  of  Mr.  C.  F.  Adams  of  the  expe- 
rience of  the  Quincy  schools  may  have  its  suggestions 
for  us : 

"As  affairs  stood  it  was  plain  that  a  great  waste  of  pub- 
lic mouey  was  goino-  on  ;  the  statistics  did  not  show  that 
the  town  was  spending  an  undue  amount  on  its, schools, 
but  of  the  amount  it  was  spending  not  fifty  cents  of  each 
dollar  were  effectively  spent.  .  .  This  waste  could  only 
be  remedied  in  one  way.  .  .  It  was  determined  to  ask  the 
town  to  employ  a  superintendent  of  schools,  and  to  put 
the  working  out  of  the  system  in  his  hands." 

The  success  of  this  new  departure  is  already  widely 
known.  Without  increasing  their  school-tax,  simply  by 
organized  management,  just  such  management  as  any 
business  corporation  must  use  or  die,  they  have  so  im- 
proved the  character  of  the  schools  and  of  the  instruc- 
tion that  friends  of  education  go  there  from  far  and  near 
to  find  out  how.  How  can  Philadelphia  do  it  ?  First, 
find  a  man  who  has  studied  education  as  a  science  ;  pay 
him  a  salary  consistent  with  his  value,  and  give  him 
such  paid  assistants,  the  best  he  can  find  of  either  sex,  as 
his  Avork  demands,  thus  giving  the  force  of  one  concerted 
movement  to  the  thirty-one  little  independent  forces  now 
each  pulling  its  own  way.  Next,  organize  in  like  man- 
ner the  action  of  all  the  divisions  in  one  school,  hy 
giving  to  the  principal  at  least  a  part  of  his  or  her  time 
from  actual  teaching  for  general  supervision.  Last,  but 
not  least,  insure  in  each  school  committee  an  intelligent 
co-operation  with  the  general  plan,   by  removing  the 


294 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


choice  of  directors  from  the  pot-house  to  some  higher 
source — by  instituting  some  test,  almost  any  test,  of  fit- 
ness ;  then  ability  to  read,  if  nothing  more  ;  and  let  us 
stipulate  furthermore  that  no  school  director  shall  run 
a  "saloon." 


A  PRIMARY   SCHOLAR. 


A  MASTER  BUILDER 


After  the  first  astonished  hour  in  Nantucket,  the 
stranger  wlio  seeks  a  reason  for  things  as  they  are,  and 
who,  if  a  true  American,  sees  also  how  they  should  have 
been  and  plans  instinctively  for  what  they  had  better 
be,  pauses,  considers  the  facts,  and  insensibly  becomes 
convinced  that,  amazing  as  certain  aspects  may  be,  the 
arrangement  is  reasonable  ;  in  fact,  the  only  one  admit- 
ting comfortable  life.  The  stranger  is  intent  upon 
meeting  the  ocean  face  to  face.  The  townsman  has 
other  views.  To  him  the  sea  is  good  only  so  far  as 
it  serves  as  a  storehouse  for  food  or  a  highway  be- 
tween him  and  prosperity.  If  this  be  so  for  the  men, 
a  deeper  reason  influences  their  women.  Too  many 
brave  ships  have  gone  down,  too  many  high  souls  looked 
their  last  toward  home  across  fierce  waves  piling  up 
and  sweeping  them  into  a  harbor  not  laid  down  on  any 
chart,  for  those  who  waited  at  home  to  plan  for  any 
constant  outlook  upon  it. 

And  so  the  houses  elbow  one  another,  and  "  the  street 
called  Straight"  is  not  to  be  found  within  her  borders, 
lanes  and  alleys,  twisting  and  winding  and  ending  sud- 
denly against  blank  walls,  in  a  vain  endeavor  to  escape 
the  wind,  which  "bloweth  where  it  listeth,"  and  with 

295 


29G  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

which  every  blade  of  vegetation  on  the  island  wages  a 
constant  struggle.  Even  the  harbor  has  its  dangers, 
a  bar  lies  across  the  entrance,  and  only  skillful  piloting 
secures  safe  entry.  One  marvels  at  the  courage  of  the 
first  settlers,  who  sought  it  in  despair,  and  who  planted 
there  the  toleration  they  had  failed  to  find  in  the  Puritan 
community  who  had  fled  from  persecution  in  the  old 
country  only  to  inaugurate  it  on  their  own  account  in 
the  new. 

Here,  in  1G76,  when  the  Indian  conflict  was  at  its 
height,  came  from  the  island  a  voice  clear  and  strong, 
as  many  a  voice  has  since  sounded  from  the  same  re- 
mote and  mist-encircled  point.  To  Peter  Folger,  sur- 
veyor, schoolmaster,  lay  preacher  to  the  Indians  on 
the  island,  for  whom  Thomas  Mayhew  was  doing  mis- 
sionary work  among  the  Indians,  it  seemed  evident  that 
the  war,  with  every  terror  it  had  brought,  was  simply 
the  punishment  due  every  Christian  in  New  England 
for  their  behavior  toward  Baptists,  Quakers  and  every 
other  sect  or  person  who  loved  and  used  free  speech. 
To  speak  at  all  was  dangerous ;  but  Peter  Folger  had  no 
scruples,  and  liis  denunciation  and  his  plea  "  streamed 
forth  in  one  long  jet  of  manly,  migrammatical,  valiant 
doggerel — a  ballad  just  fit  to  1)e  sung  by  'some  blind 
crowder,  with  no  rougher  voice  than  rude  style,'  called, 
'  A  Looking-Glass  for  the  Times  ;  or,  the  Former  Spirit 
of  New  England  Revived  in  this  Generation.'  " 

There  is  not  even  a  suggestion  of  poetry  in  the  entire 
production,  but  there  is  an  extraordinary  "  frankness 


A  MASTER  BUILDER.  299 

and  force.'"  The  writer  brings  to  the  bar  the  then 
"  mightiest  personages  in  the  land — ministers  and  ma- 
gistrates ;"  tries  and  condemns  them  nnshrinkingly,  and 
then,  determined  to  bear  the  full  consequences  of  his 
own  fearless  testimony,  weaves  "  his  name  and  his  place 
of  abode  into  the  tissue  of  his  verse,  thereby  notifying 
all  who  might  have  any  issues  to  try  with  him,  precisely 
who  he  was  and  where  he  was  to  be  found  in  case  of 

need." 

"  I  am  for  peace,  aud  not  for  war, 

And  that 's  the  reason  wliy 
I  write  more  plain  tlian  some  men  do, 

That  use-  to  daub  and  lie  ; 
But  I  shall  cease,  and  set  my  name 

To  what  I  here  insert ; 
Because  to  be  a  libeler 

I  hate  with  all  my  heart. 
From  Sherbon  town,  where  now  I  dwell, 

My  name  I  do  put  here  ; 
Without  offense,  your  real  friend, 

It  is  Peter  Folger." 

Nine  sons  and  daughters  came  to  the  sturdy  old  sur- 
veyor, "strong-brained,  free-hearted"  and  frank,  and 
the  youngest  of  these  daughters,  Abiah  Folger,  became 
the  second  wife  of  Josiah  Franklin,  adding  ten  to  the 
seven  childi-en  of  the  first  wife,  the  youngest  son  being 
destined  to  speak  his  mind  with  all  the  audacity  and 
much  more  immediate  eftect  than  the  grandfather's 
words  had  produced. 

And  thus  jSTantucket  has  its  share  in  Benjamin 
Franklin,  and  the  old  town,  with  its  back  to  the  sea, 
fitly  .symbolizes  the  /' Toor   llichard  "  era  of  his   life. 


300  A  SYLVAIf  CITY. 

when  expediency  was  temporarily  his  watchword,  and 
the  power  of  tlie  strong,  intense  and  earnest  genera- 
tions that  had  blended  forces  in  the  veins  of  this 
youngest  son,  was,  as  yet,  undirected  and  vuicompre- 
hended.  Utility,  practicality,  spare  living,  much  saving 
— all  the  grind  of  laborious  common  life — were  in  the 
early  years.  Beyond  lay  the  great  sea.  Its  breath 
touched  his  brow  as  he  bent  over  sordid  tasks,  and 
even  in  their  midst  he  stole  away  to  pick  up  some 
fragments  on  the  shore,  barely  conscious  of  a  power 
that  drew  him  on  and  that  one  day  would  launch  him 
on  this  boundless  ocean  of  knowledge,  as  bold  a  voyager 
as  ever  sailed. 

No  life  known  to  American  history  is  divided  into 
such  distinct  and  utterly  separate  periods  ;  so  set  apart 
from  one  another  that  three  biographies  ought  really  to 
be  written,  each  covering  a  period  not  far  from  thirty 
years.  In  the  first  it  is  a  question  which  one  of  the 
many  tendencies  will  have  its  way.  The  man  of  science, 
the  literary  man,  are  both  suggested  and  both  domi- 
nated by  the  sharp  business  qualities  which  later  round 
and  develoiD  into  the  calm  and  practical  statesmanship 
of  his  maturer  vears.  As  usual  in  most  stories  of  notable 
lives,  the  conflict  is  a  long  and  unconscious  one,  but 
there  are  few  men  who  have  left  as  ample  material  from 
which  the  inward  life  may  be  drawn. 

The  outward  story  is  a  familiar  one  ;  almost  stale  and 
trite.  Every  child  can  tell  it,  and  Franklin,  as  he  ap- 
pears walking  the  streets  of  Philadelphia,  with  a  roll 


.1  MASTER  BUILDER.  301 

under  each  arm,  becomes  as  much  a  part  of  one's  men- 
tal picture  gallery  as  Washington  with  his  hatchet. 
Certainly,  there  is  far  more  of  the  picturesque  element 
in  these  early  years  than  fell  to  the  lot  of  most  New 
England  children,  who,  like  John  Wesley's,  "cried  softly 
and  feared  the  rod,''  in  their  babyhood,  and  who  walked 
circumspectly  in  prescribed  paths,  until  the  time  ap- 
pointed by  temperament  and  destiny  for  breaking  loose. 
Benjamin  Franklin  recalled,  in  old  age,  seeing  twelve 
brothers  and  sisters  at  his  father's  table,  and  both  he 
and  his  best-loved  sister,  Jane,  bore  witness  to  the  hap- 
piness of  this  early  home. 

In  later  life  she  wrote:  "It  was,  indeed,  a  lowly 
dwelling  we  were  brought  up  in,  but  we  were  fed  plen- 
tifully, made  comfortable  with  fire  and  clothing,  had 
seldom  any  contention  among  us  ;  but  all  was  harmony, 
especially  between  the  heads,  and  they  were  universally 
respected." 

The  children  were  welcome  and  were  reared  by  the 
parents  with  a  cheery  fondness,  the  natural  result  of 
sound  health  and  of  happiness  in  one  another.  The  lit- 
tle Benjamin's  face  and  form  were  his  mother's,  the 
Folger  t3-pe  having  been  strong  enough  to  perpetuate 
itself  even  to  the  present  day.  From  her,  too,  came  the 
keen  but  quiet  humor,  the  disdain  of  conventionalities 
and  much  of  the  sturdy  common  sense  that  remained 
with  him  through  life.  The  Franklin  family,  how- 
ever, had  traits  as  strong.  Josiah  Franklin,  though 
living  by  the  labor  of  his  hands  to  the  end,  was  "hand- 


302  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

some  and  agreeable,  accomplished  and  Avise.  .  .  He 
drew  Avell,  played  the  violin  fairly  and  his  voice  in 
singing  was  sonorous  and  pleasing."  A  brother,  Ben- 
jamin, for  whom  the  little  Benjamin  was  named,  had 
remained  in  London,  and  though  suffering  both  political 
and  religious  persecution  for  his  opinions,  kept  up  a 
stout  and  cheerful  heart  through  whatever  came,  solac- 
ing himself  with  rhymes  as  rugged  as  those  in  which 
Peter  Folger  had  spoken  his  mind.  Indeed,  this  rhym- 
ing tendency  was  part  of  Franklin's  inheritance  also, 
and  it  was  encouraged  by  long  poetical  epistles  from 
Uncle  Benjamin,  who,  delighted  with  the  promising 
accounts  of  his  namesake,  kept  up  as  constant  inter- 
course as  the  time  allowed.  Franklin  did  not  remember 
when  he  could  not  read,  and  writing  began  almost  as 
early,  and  at  seven  he  wrote  a  rhyming  letter,  which 
called  out  a  joyous  response  from  Uncle  Benjamin, 
more  a  prophecy  than  any  knew,  the  verses  ending  : 

"  If  first  year's  shoots  such  noble  clusters  send, 

"What  laden  boughs,  Engedi-like,  may  we  expect  in  end  ?" 

The  "shoots"  were  already  of  such  promising  char- 
acter that  the  father  decided  to  devote  such  gifts  to  the 
chvu'ch,  and  placed  Benjamin,  when  eight  years  old,  at 
the  Boston  Grammar  School,  where,  in  less  than  a  year, 
he  rose  to  the  head  of  his  class.  But  to  keep  him  there 
proved  impossible  with  the  small  means  and  large  fam- 
ily dependent  upon  him,  and  at  ten  the  school  life  ended 
forever,  and  the  boy  became  an  assistant  in  his  father's 
shop,  cutting  candle-wicks,  filling  candle-moulds,  run^ 


A  MASTER  BUILDER. 


303 


ning  errands  and  attending  shop.  Franklin  records  in 
his  autobiography  tlie  strong  dislike  he  had  to  the  busi- 
ness and  his  longing  to  go  to  sea,  such  longing  being 
inevitable  in  any  boy  brought  up  by  the  sea,  and 
running  its  course  like  measles  and  the  usual  childish 
diseases.  To  this  time  belong  sundry  experiments,  in- 
dicating the  scientitic  bent  of  his  mind ;  one  or  two 
inventions  which  aided  him  in  swimming,  among  others 
the  kite  which  drew  him  across  the  pond.  His  brother 
Josiah  had  gone  to  sea  some  nine  years  before,  and  a 
sister  had  married  the  captain  of  a  coasting  vessel,  both 
of  which  facts 
were  urged  as 
reasons  why  he 
should  be  allow- 
ed to  make  at 
least  one  voyage. 


X 

THE  PRINTING  PRESS   FRANKLIN   USED  IN    LONDON   IN   1725. 


804  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

In  the  meantime  Uncle  Benjamin  had,  in  1715,  come 
from  London  to  spend  his  last  years  near  his  son 
Samuel,  and  brought  with  him,  to  his  brother  Josiah's 
house,  his  volumes  of  poetry  and  such  portions  of  his 
library  as  remained  unsold.  His  influence  was  strong 
enough  to  keep  his  namesake  at  home,  and  it  is  not  pos- 
sible to  tell  how  much  we  owe  to  the  gentle-natured, 
guileless,  quaint-humored  old  man,  the  first  four  years 
of  whose  American  life  were  in  constant  companionship 
with  the  boy  who  looked  up  to  him  with  admiring  faith, 
studied  his  system  of  short-hand  and  obeyed  his  direc- 
tions far  more  willingly  than  those  of  others  in  authority. 

The  truant  sailor  came  home,  and  twelve  brothers 

and  sisters  gathered  to  the  feast  made  for  him,  Uncle 

Benjamin  furnishing  a  contribution,  which  is  still  to  be 

seen  in  one  of  his  volumes  of  rhyme,  where  the  record 

reads : 

"  The  Third  part  of  the  107  psalm,  Which  Follows  Next, 
I  composed  to  sing  at  First  meeting  with  my  Nephew  Jo- 
siah  Franklin.  But  being  unaffected  with  God's  Great 
Goodn^  In  his  many  preservations  and  Deliverances 
It  was  coldly  entertained." 

We  can  hardly  be  surprised  at  such  result,  the  first 

of  the  eight  verses  being  in  this  wise  : 

"  Those  Who  in  Foreign  Lands  converse, 
By  Ships  for  Trafflck  and  Commerce, 
Behold  great  Wonders  in  the  Deep, 
Which  God's  prescribed  bounds  doe  keep." 

The  unappreciated  poet  bore  no  malice,  but  continued 
such  compositions,  sometimes  varying  the  monotony  by 


A  MASTER  BUILDER.  305 


giving  them  curious  shapes  upon  the  page,  expanding 
or  dwindUug  as  his  fancy  dictated,  till  1727,  when  he 
died,  at  the  age  of  seventy-seven,  the  last  years  of  his 
life  having  been  spent  with  his  own  son,  though  till  the 
last  he  retained  his  admiration  for  the  namesake  who 
was  at  that   time   established  in  Philadelphia.      Pre- 
viously to  this  there  had  been  many  speculations  be- 
fore any  settled  career  could  be  determined  upon.     Up 
to  eleven  years  old  he  remained  his  father's  assistant, 
but  the  heartily-disliked  duties  cannot  have  weighed 
heavily  upon  him,  as  he  found  time  for  the  devouring  of 
many  books,  and  was  also  a  leader  in  every  sport  open 
to  the  boy  of  that  day,  including  much  entirely  original 
mischief.     The  boyhood  must  have  been  a  happy  one, 
for  as  long  as  Franklin  lived  his  heart  yearned  toward 
Boston,  and  at  eighty-two  years  old  he  spoke  of  it  to 
John  Lathrop  as  "that  beloved  place."     And  we  may 
be  sure  that  every  event  in  the  Boston  of  that  day,  from 
the  hanging  of  the  pirates  in  171G  to  the  keeping  of  the 
Puritan  Fast  and  Thanksgiving,  as  well  as  the  King's 
birthday,  Guy  Fawkes'  Day  and  the  two  great  fairs  held 
each  year,  was  not  only  remembered  but  considered  by 
this  wide-eyed  and  questioning  boy,  who  left  no  nook 
of  the  crooked  town  unexplored. 

In  the  meantime  James  Franklin,  who  had  learned 
the  trade  of  a  printer  in  London,  had  returned  to  Bos- 
ton with  types  and  a  press  of  his  own,  and  it  was  set- 
tled that  as  Benjamin's  strongest  love  was  for  books, 
that  printing  was  his  natural  vocation.  His  father,  with 


306  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

a  judgment  not  common  to  the  fathers  of  that  or  any 
period,  had  visited  with  him  the  workshops  of  carpen- 
ters, braziers,  turners  and  other  craftsmen,  watching  to 
see  in  what  the  lad  would  take  the  most  interest,  though 
with  no  result  beyond  a  certain  insight  into  various 
trades  that  was  of  great  use  when  he  came  to  experi- 
ments in  natural  science. 

For  this  particular  brother  the  boy  had  small  affec- 
tion, and  dreaded  the  long  apprenticeship.  "  In  a  little 
time,"  he  writes  in  the  famous  autobiography,  "  I  made 
great  proficiency  in  the  business,  and  became  a  useful 
hand  to  my  brother.  I  now  had  access  to  better  books. 
An  acquaintance  with  the  apprentices  of  booksellers  en- 
abled me  sometimes  to  borrow  a  small  one,  which  I  was 
careful  to  return  soon  and  clean.  Often  I  sat  up  in  my 
room  reading  the  greatest  part  of  the  night,  when  the 
book  was  borrowed  in  the  evening  and  returned  early  in 
the  morning,  lest  it  should  be  missed  or  wanted." 

"Better  books  !"  Year  after  year  the  story  was  the 
same,  the  boy  stretching  out  always  for  something  bet- 
ter than  he  had  known.  Already  a  few  books  had  laid 
the  foundations  of  both  character  and  expression,  Plu- 
tarch and  Bunyan  and  Defoe  having  given  him  that  mas- 
tery of  clear  and  vivid  statement,  "  that  pure,  pithy,  racy 
and  delightful  diction,  Avhich  he  never  lost  and  which 
makes  him  still  one  of  the  great  exemplars  of  modern 
English  prose." 

An  even  stronger  influence  laid  the  foundation  of 
much  of  the  good  work  done  in  later  life.    Cotton 


ELECTRICAL   MACHINE. 


A  MASTER  BUILD EE.  309 

Mather  is  best  known  to  us  as  the  hanger  of  witches, 
and  we  are  apt  to  judge  him  from  this  standpoint;  yet, 
as  Parton  jjuts  it:  "Probably  his  zeal  against  the 
witches  was  as  much  the  oftspring  of  his  benevolence 
as  his  'Essays  to  Do  Good.'  Concede  his  theory  of 
witches,  and  it  had  been  cruelty  to  man  not  to  hang 
them." 
In  any  case  these  essays  had  a  profound  influence 

upon  Franklin,  who,  at  eighty  years  old,  wrote  to  a 
friend  describing  the  book  as  it  first  came  into  his  hands 
with  several  leaves  torn  out,  and  adding  :  "  But  the  re- 
mainder gave  me  such  a  turn  of  thinking  as  to  have  an 
influence  on  my  conduct  through  life ;  for  I  have  always 
set  a  greater  value  on  the  character  of  a  doer  of  good 
than  on  any  other  kind  of  reputation ;  and  if  I  have 
been,  as  you  seem  to  think,  a  useful  citizen  the  public 
owe  the  advantage  of  it  to  that  book." 

Stilted  as  are  the  paragraphs  which  make  up  the  scanty 
pages,  they  hold  "  a  luunor,  familiar  learning,  impetuous 
earnestness  and  yearning  tenderness "  hardly  to  be 
looked  for  in  the  work  of  a  man  described  by  another 
critic  as  "a  vast  literary  and  religious  coxcomb  .... 
the  idol  of  a  distinguished  family ;  the  prodigy  both  of 
school  and  of  college  ;  the  oracle  of  a  rich  parish ;  the 
pet  and  demi-god  of  an  endless  series  of  sewing  so- 
cieties." 

Be  this  as  it  may,  he  had  power  to  influence  the  boy 
in  other  ways  as  well.  For  Cotton  Mather  was  "the 
originator  of  a  kind  of  Neighboi-hood  Benefit  Societies, 


310  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

one  of  which  he  endeavored  to  form  in  each  church,  and 
to  twenty  of  which"  he  himself  belonged,  and  the 
"Points  of  Consideration"  for  which,  talking  the  form 
of  ten  elaborate  and  comprehensive  questions,  were  evi- 
dently the  origin  of  the  "Junto,"  the  famous  club 
founded  by  Franklin  in  1730,  a  full  history  of  which  is 
given  in  the  article  in  the  present  series  on  the  Phila- 
delphia Library. 

Franklin's  tendency  to  verse  found  expi-ession  in  vari- 
ous doggerel  ballads,  then  one  of  the  most  popular  forms 
of  literature,  and  hawked  about  both  in  town  and  coun- 
try. Two  of  them  became  at  once  very  popular,  and  the 
young  author  was  so  pufted  up  by  his  success  that  his 
father  "came  to  the  rescue  of  his  good  sense,  pointed  out 
the  faults  of  the  performance,"  and  thus  saved  us  from 
a  deluge  of  inferior  verse,  which  Franklin  could  never 
quite  decide  to  let  alone.  But  his  fother's  influence  was 
strong  enough  to  increase  the  boy's  desire  for  a  clear  and 
elegant  prose  style,  and  opportunity  for  practice  came  in 
the  theological  and  other  arguments  with  John  Collins, 
a  boy  of  almost  equal  fondness  for  books,  and  of  an  ar- 
gumentative turn  of  mind.  At  this  period  Franklin  was 
passing  through  the  disputatious  stage  common  to  most 
keen-witted  boys — a  tendency  he  outgrew  and  finally  dis- 
liked ;  but  his  pen  then,  as  in  later  years,  was  more  easily 
commanded  than  his  tongue,  for  Franklin  was  never  a 
fluent  talker,  though  when  warmed  and  excited  by  con- 
versation, his  rather  slow  words  were  often  brilliant 
and  always  to  the  point.     Collins'  style  was  far  better 


A  MASTER  BUILDER. 


3H 


than   that  of  his  antagonist, 
and  after  various  letters  had 
passed,    the    father,    secretly 
proud  of  Benjamin's  mastery 
in    other    directions,   pointed 
this  out,  and  urged  more  care 
and  attention,     A  volume  of 
the  Spectator  at  this  time  fell 
in  his  way,  and  he  read  and 
re-read  it  with  delight,  taking 
the    flowing    periods    as    his 
model,  and  endeavoring  to  re- 
produce the  whole  as  exactly 
as  possible  from    memory. 
The  "  Memorabilia  of  So- 
crates" he    studied  with 
the  same  intensity,  adopt- 
ing the  Socratic  method 
of  arguing  and  discon- 
certing and  tangling 
his  opponent  in  a 
learned  then  a  lesson 
through  life — the 
the  victory  often  to 
from  "  wounding 
opponent." 
Collins  fell  at 
^      liberal   ten- 


franklin's  court  sword, 
with    inscription 
on  the  blade. 

labyrinth  of  questions.     He 
which  remained  with  him 
power  of  a  quiet  courtesy,  and 
be  gained  by  simply  refraining 
or  alarming  the  self-love  of  an 

The  works  of  Shaftesbury  and 
this  period  into  his  hands,  and  the 
dency  of  his  life  was  already  sufficiently  marked  to  make 


312  A  STLVAS  CITY. 

him  seize  upon  them  with  avidity,  and,  for  a  year  or  so, 
to  convince  him  that  Deism  was  the  only  rational  form 
of  faith.  As  in  his  early  boyhood,  he  used  a  part  of 
the  night  for  study,  and  gained  also  a  large  part  of  the 
noon-hour,  from  the  fact  that,  with  his  other  theories, 
he  had  adopted  vegetarianism.  In  spite  of  his  generous 
and  well-developed  physique,  and  the  ardent  tempera- 
ment with  which  one  generally  associates  a  love  for  the 
pleasures  of  the  table,  Franklin  was  always  exceedingly 
abstinent,  and  at  this  time  absolutely  inditierent  in  the 
matter  of  food. 

Precisely  who  the  Graham  of  that  period  was  we  are 
not  told,  but  a  small  treatise  on  the  advantages  of  vege- 
tarianism, with  various  rules  for  the  preparation  of  such 
food,  had  fallen  in  his  way,  and  Franklin  proposed  to 
his  brother  that  he  should  give  him  half  the  money  paid 
for  his  board  and  let  him  board  himself.  The  experi- 
ment was  tried.  Half  of  this  half,  it  was  proved,  could 
be  easily  saved,  and  so  the  fund  for  precious  books  be 
increased  ;  and  Franklin,  like  Shelley  in  a  later  genera- 
tion, dined  on  hasty  pudding  or  rice,  or  a  slice  of  bread 
and  some  raisins,  and  then  turned  to  the  books,  in 
which  he  says,  "  I  made  the  greater  progress  from  that 
greater  clearness  of  head  and  quicker  apprehension 
which  usually  attend  temperance  in  eating  and  drink- 
ing." 

Before  a  year's  apprenticeship  had  ended,  James 
Franklin  became  a  printer  of  the  first  sensational  news- 
paper ;  sensational,  in  that  it  argued  the  merits  of  what 


A  MASTER  BUILDER.  313 

was  then  the  great  heterodoxy — inoculation  for  the 
small-pox.  The  fury  of  remonstrance  and  indignation 
with  which  this  was  received  can  hardly  now  be  under- 
stood, though  its  story  is  that  of  every  reform  since  the 
world  began.  The  tirst  printer  of  the  first  American 
newspaper,  which  appeared  at  Boston,  Thursday,  Sep- 
tember 25th,  1G90,  had  come  speedily  into  collision  with 
the  "Lord  Brethren,"  then  supreme  in  all  matters  of 
state  or  church,  and  his  paper  was  suppressed  at  the 
fourth  number.  Fourteen  years  later,  another  took  its 
place,  leading  a  troubled  and  repressed  existence.  There 
was  small  encouragement  to  start  another,  but  in  Decem- 
ber, 1719,  the  attempt  was  made,  James  Franklin  being 
the  printer.  Dissensions  followed,  and  the  work  was  sud- 
denly taken  from  him.  Pride  and  pocket  both  suffered, 
and  James  Franklin,  who  owned  a  full  share  of  the  fam- 
ily energy,  in  August,  1721,  sent  out  the  first  number  of 
the  JVew  England  Courant.  "  Spirited,  witty  and  dar- 
ing," this  paper  was  a  break  in  the  conventional  Jour- 
nalism of  the  day.  Every  liberal  in  Boston  rallied  to 
this  flag.  The  Boston  tea-pot  was  agitated  by  a  tem- 
pest, some  suggestions  of  which  reached  even  the  remote 
colony  of  Pennsylvania,  and  inoculation  was  at  the 
bottom  of  it  all. 

There  is  no  space  in  which  to  tell  the  stor}',  one  of  the 
most  amusing  and  suggestive  in  the  early  history  of  the 
Colonies.  James  Franklin  went  to  prison,  and  Benja- 
min, in  the  eyes  of  the  law  still  an  infant,  and  thus  not 
to  be  judged  for  his  deeds,  seized  tiic  press-lever  exult- 


314  A  SYLVAN  CIT7. 

ingly  and  spoke  his  mind  with  a  freedom  very  disgust- 
ing to  the  Lord  Brethren,  hut  chuckled  over  and  ap- 
plauded by  every  liberal-minded  man  in  the  town.  The 
Council  had  banned  it,  but  bought  the  obnoxious  sheet 
privately  to  see  what  new  iniquity  might  be  therein. 
Imprisonment  did  not  subdue  the  owner,  and  till  1723 
these  troublesome  printers  aftbrded  matter  of  conversa- 
tion for  the  whole  country.  But  "  James  did  not  know 
that  he  had  the  most  valuable  apprentice  in  the  world., 
and  the  apprentice  knew  it  too  well."  The  elder  bro- 
ther was  unjust ;  the  younger  one  resentful.  Quarrel 
after  quarrel  left  each  more  embittered,  and  in  spite  of  a 
conscientious  determination  to  hold  to  his  contract,  the 
task  at  last  became  too  difficult,  and  Franklin  took  the 
step  which  made  him  the  world's  property  and  not  Bos- 
ton's— he  ran  away. 

Three  days'  sailing  brought  him  to  ^N'ew  York,  then  a 
Dutch  town  with  no  room  or  call  for  English  printers. 
William  Bradford,  to  whom  he  applied,  recommended 
Philadelphia  as  the  most  likely  spot  in  which  to  obtain 
employment,  and  without  hesitation  he  took  passage 
for  Perth  Amboy  in  a  crazy  old  boat,  and,  after  an  ex- 
tremely uncomfortable  as  well  as  dangerous  passage, 
walked  the  fifty  miles  from  Perth  Amboy  to  Philadel- 
phia. 

The  world  knows  by  heart  every  detail  of  his  first 
day  there.  Employment  was  at  once  obtained  with  a 
new-comer  in  the  town,  one  Samuel  Keimer,  long-haired 
and  bearded  in  an  age  when  close  cropping  was  impera- 


A  MASTER  BUILDER. 


315 


tive,  and  with  a  turn  of  mind  equally  strong  in  opposi- 
tion to  accepted  theories.  Franklin  found  lodging  in 
the  home  of  the  young  lady  who  had  looked  smilingly 
at  the  travel-stained  and  hungry  voyager,  and  a  time 
of  quiet  work  and  of  pleasant  life  began.  Good  pay, 
congenial  friends  and  more  time  for  reading  and  study 
increased  his  liking  for  the  easy-going  city  ;  and  when 
finally  his  secret  was  discovered,  and  he  was  promised 
full  forgiveness  and  more  privileges  if  he  would  return 
home,  he  declared  his  fixed  resolution  to  remain  in 
Philadelphia. 

The  letter  in  which  he  stated  the  reasons  for  his 
course,  written  with  a  dispassionateness  not  to  be  ex- 
pected, chanced  to  be  seen  by  Sir  William  Keith,  the 
Governor    of   Pennsylvania,    through    whom    one    of 


MEMENTOES   FROM    FRANCE. 


816  A  SYLVAN  Of  TV. 


Franklin's  most  disastrous  yet  most  fruitful  of  expe- 
riences was  to  come;  a  man  whose  first  craving  was  pop- 
ularity, and  who  promised  ahvays  far  in  advance  of  any 
possibility  of  performance.  He  urged  that  Tranklin 
should  set  up  for  himself  in  business,  having,  to  the 
profound  astonishment  not  only  of  Keimer  but  the  en- 
tire neighborhood,  called  in  person  on  the  young  printer, 
and  even  followed  up  the  suggestion  by  writing  to  the 
father. 

Josiah  Franklin,  pleased  as  he  could  not  help  but  be 
at  the  honor  to  which  the  lad  had  already  come,  was  too 
wary  and  sagacious  a  man  not  to  ponder  carefully  every 
side  of  the  question.  The  son,  meantime,  set  sail  in 
April,  1724,  for  Boston,  and  after  a  dangerous  voyage 
of  over  a  fortnight,  astonished  his  relatives  by  ap- 
pearing among  them.  Handsomely  dressed,  owning 
a  watch,  and  with  five  pounds  in  silver  in  his  pock- 
ets, he  met  his  brother  with  an  ill-concealed  elation, 
which  exasperated  him  to  the  highest  pitch  and  com- 
pleted the  breach  already  made.  The  father  refused 
positively  to  set  him  up  in  business  at  that  time,  re- 
garding him  as  too  young,  but  promised  to  help  if,  at 
twenty-one,  he  had  saved  enough  to  prove  his  capa- 
bility of  taking  care  of  himself;  and  Franklin  returned 
to  Philadelphia  this  time  with  the  blessing  and  good 
wishes  of  both  parents.  Collins,  his  early  friend,  joined 
him  at  New  York,  but  unfortunately  had  fallen  into 
intemperate  habits,  and  became,  from  that  time  on,  a 
hindrance  and  perpetual  source   of  mortification.     He 


A  MASTER  BUILDER.  317 


not  only  lived  at  Franklin's  expense  but  continually  bor- 
rowed of  him,  encroaching  thus  on  a  small  sum  collected 
by  FrankUu  for  a  friend,  the  lending  of  which  he  char- 
acterizes as  "  the  tirst  great  error  "  of  his  life.  Fortu- 
nately a  quarrel  followed,  in  which  Collins  was  solely  to 
blame,  and  the  connection  was  broken,  never  to  be  re- 
sumed. 

In  the  meantime  the  elder  Franklin's  letter  had  been 
received  by  Sir  William  Keith,  who  was  not  in  the  least 
disposed  to  give  up  his  project  of  establishing  his  protege 
in  life,  and  who  finally  agreed  to  send  to  England  for 
such  outfit  as  was  necessary,  Franklin  having  made  an 
inventory  of  every  desirable  article,  the  value  of  which 
was  nearly  one  hundred  pounds.  Governor  Keith,  on 
reading  it  over,  suggested  that  a  more  profitable  bargain 
might  be  made  if  the  young  printer  went  over  and  se- 
lected for  himself,  and,  after  some  discussion,  it  was 
settled  that  Franklin  should  cross  in  the  ship  sailing 
regularly  between  London  and  Philadelphia.  But  as 
months  would  pass  before  the  fixed  time  of  leaving,  the 
voyages  being  made  but  once  a  year  from  each  port, 
Franklin  resolved  to  keep  the  affair  entirely  secret.  Had 
he  mentioned  it,  there  were  many  who  could  have  told 
him  the  Governor's  real  reputation  as  a  "vain,  false, 
gasconading  popularity-hunter  ;"  but  even  then  Frank- 
lin was  probably  too  fascinated  by  the  new  friend  to 
have  listened.  Six  of  the  happiest  months  of  his  life 
passed  in  this  Awaiting.  He  had  then  become  engaged 
to  Deborah  Reed,  and  "  youth,  hope,  prosperity,  conge- 


818  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

nial  friends  and  reciprocated  love  combined  to  render 
his  working  days  serene  and  his  holidays  memorably 
happy." 

His  special  intimates  at  this  time  were  three  young 
men  of  his  own  rank  in  life,  James  Ralph  being  the  one 
whose  fortunes  most  affected  those  of  Franklin.  All 
'  loved  books,  and  were  fond  of  composing  poetry  after  the 
easy  model  set  by  Pope,  and  the  story  of  their  friend- 
ship and  some  of  the  tricks  played  upon  one  another  is 
one  of  the  most  vivacious  pieces  of  writing  in  the  auto- 
biography. Sir  Wilham  Keith  often  invited  the  young 
printer  to  his  house,  and  promised  him  letters  to  many 
influential  friends,  as  well  as  a  letter  of  credit  to  be  used 
in  buying  type,  paper  and  press.  But  whenever  Frank- 
lin called  for  them,  another  time  was  fixed,  and  thus  on 
to  the  very  day  of  sailing,  when  the  Governor  sent  word 
that  he  would  meet  him  at  Newcastle  and  make  all  final 
arrangements.  When  Newcastle  was  reached  no  Gover- 
nor  appeared,  but  as  a  bag  of  letters  was  brought  on 
board  by  his  agent,  the  puzzled  Frankhn  accepted  the 
statement  that  an  extraordinary  pressure  of  business  had 
prevented  the  expected  interview,  and  waited  till  the 
captain  could  take  time  to  open  the  mail-bag  for  him. 

He  was  not  alone,  for  James  Ealph  had  decided  to  ac- 
company him,  and  the  two,  finding  no  room  in  the  chief 
cabin,  had  taken  passage  in  the  steerage.  At  the  last 
moment  Andrew  Hamilton,  a  great  man  in  the  colony, 
who  had  secured  part  of  the  cabin  for  himself  and  son, 
was  induced,  by  the  offer  of  an  enormous  fee,  to  return, 


franklin's  music  stand— historical  society. 


A  MASTER  BUILDER.  331 

in  order  to  conduct  an  important  law  case,  and  with  his 
usual  good  fortune,  Franklin  was  invited  to  take  posses- 
sion of  the  vacated  berths,  and  lived  royally  all  through 
the  voyage  on  the  store  of  provisions  Mr.  Hamilton  had 
liiul  no  time  to  remove.  Not  until  near  the  end  of  the 
voyage  was  there  any  opportunity  of  examining  the 
mail-bag,  and  then  Franklin  was  confounded  to  find  no 
letters  for  him  in  person,  and  only  a  handful  directed  in 
his  care.  When  these  were  delivered,  they  proved  not 
to  have  been  written  by  Keith  at  all.  Franklin  told  the 
story  to  Mr.  Denham,  an  influential  friend  made  on  the 
voyage,  and  then,  for  the  first  time,  learned  the  real 
reputation  of  the  rascally  Governor. 

With  but  ten  pounds  in  his  pocket,  and  James  Ealph, 
penniless  and  helpless,  quartered  upon  him,  he  faced 
the  situation  with  his  usual  quiet  courage,  took  humble 
lodgings,  and  at  once  sought  for  employment,  easily  ob- 
tained, as  he  was  master  in  his  trade.  Few  men  have 
ever  lived  with  whom  resentment  at  such  treatment 
would  not  linger  and  i)rompt  revenge,  but  one  of  Frank- 
lin's loveliest  traits  was  his  inability  to  harbor  an  in- 
jury and  his  instant  forgiveness  of  all  personal  wrongs. 
His  comment  in  the  autobiography  was  written  many 
years  after  Keith  had  bitterly  expiated  his  many  errors, 
but  even  in  the  beginning  he  let  the  matter  drop  as  one 
in  which  words  could  neither  help  nor  hinder,  and  took 
up  a  life  which,  hard  as  it  was,  had  many  compensa- 
tions. There  must  have  been  a  certain  mental  discour- 
agement, for  during  this  year  in  London  lie  made  little 


323  A  SYLVAJV  CITY. 

effort  to  save,  spending  freely  of  the  small  i:)ortion  that 
Ralph's  dependence  left  him.  He  frequented  the  the- 
atre, I'ead  with  his  usual  assiduity,  paying  the  keeper  of 
a  second-hand  book-store  a  certain  sum  per  year  for 
the  free  use  of  his  books,  and  as  he  became  more  and 
more  absorbed  in  both  pleasure  and  study,  the  image  of 
Deborah  Reed  gradually  faded  from  his  mind,  and  he 
ceased  a  correspondence  which  had  been  at  best  infre- 
quent and  fragmentary.  Other  complications  had  arisen 
resulting  from  his  connection  with  Ralph,  but  the  story 
is  too  long  to  find  room  here.  It  was  a  period  of  spirit- 
ual apathy,  almost  of  recklessness,  and  the  most  san- 
guine friend  might  have  doubted  if  the  young  printer 
would  ever  become  more  than  the  busy  and  successful 
man  of  the  world.  Nevertheless,  the  tendency  was 
never  downward,  but  always  steadily  upward,  and  thus 
when  Mr.  Denham,  the  friend  made  on  shipboard,  and 
with  whom  he  had  kept  up  an  acquaintance  ever  since 
his  landing,  offered  him  a  clerkship  in  Philadelphia,  he 
accepted  joyfullj'.  He  was  tired  of  London,  and  dis- 
couraged and  dissatisfied  with  his  life  there,  and  when 
the  long  passage  of  eighty-two  days  ended,  and  he  saw 
once  more  the  streets  of  the  sober  city,  he  rejoiced  with 
all  his  heart.  The  diary  kept  on  this  voyage  is  one  of 
the  most  interesting  of  his  life,  not  so  much  from  any 
incident  therein,  as  from  his  close  observation  of  every 
natural  fact,  and  his  shrewd  and  telling  comment  upon 
it.  "We  see  a  strong  masculine  undei'standing  united 
with  sensitive,   tender  feelings   ...   a  mind  alive  to 


A  MASTER  BUILDER.  823 

the  beauties,  but  also  most  curious  as  to  the  processes 
of  nature ;  and  here  and  there  a  touch  of  worldly  wis- 
dom, indicating  a  youth  destined  to  win  a  liberal  por- 
tion of  what  the  world  hastens  to  bestow  upon  those 
who  serve  it  as  it  wishes  to  be  served." 

One  of  the  first  persons  encountered  on  landing  was 
Sir  "William  Keith,  who  had  sufficient  grace  to  look 
ashamed,  and  who  passed  without  speaking.  Work 
began  at  once.  Mr.  Denham  stocked  a  larcre  store  on 
AVater  street ;  Franklin  became  an  inmate  of  his  house, 
and  there  seemed  every  prospect  that  he  would  end  his 
days  as  a  Philadelphia  merchant.  But  within  four 
months  from  the  opening  of  the  store  severe  pleurisy 
attacked  both  master  and  clerk.  Mr.  Denham  died, 
and  Franklin,  when  he  recovered,  found  himself  once 
more  adrift,  without  employment.  He  sought  at  once 
for  another  clerkship — by  no  means  easy  to  find — and 
after  some  days  of  waiting,  accepted  unwillingly  an 
offer  from  Keimer,  who  had  now  a  stationery  shop,. as 
well  as  a  printing  office.  Both  were  in  the  chaotic  state 
Avhich  seemed  natural  to  all  Keimer's  undertakings. 
The  five  hands  were  totally  unacquainted  with  the  busi- 
ness, and  the  new  foreman  was  expected  to  train  them 
and  to  superintend  every  detail  of  the  establishment. 
But  Keimer  had  no  intention  of  retaining  such  a  rival 
longer  than  was  necessary  to  put  the  business  on  a  (inn 
basis,  and,  forgetting  his  usual  crafty  discretion,  took 
advantage  of  some  slight  inadvertence  on  Franklin's 
part  to  give  him  the  quarter's  warning  stipulated  for  by 


324  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

either  side  in  the  making  of  tlieir  contract.  The  justly- 
incensed  foreman  marched  out  of  the  sliop,  determined 
never  to  return,  asking  Meredith,  his  chief  friend  there, 
to  bring  to  him  in  tlie  evening  such  articles  as  had  been 
left  behind,  and  then  went  home  to  reflect  upon  the 
situation. 

It  was  not  a  happy  one.  Four  years  had  passed  since 
his  flight  from  Boston,  and  their  ending  found  him  still 
a  journeyman  printer,  in  debt,  and  with  very  little 
money  on  hand.  He  thought  bitterly  for  a  time  of 
giving  up  the  fight  and  returning  to  his  father's  house, 
and  as  he  brooded  saw  only  the  errors  that  he  had  com- 
mitted ;  Deborah  Reed's  pale  and  troubled  face  rose  be- 
fore him  and  looked  the  reproach  she  had  never  spoken. 
Urged  by  her  parents,  she  had,  after  long  waiting  for  let- 
ters from  Franklin,  married  a  man  who  proved  not  only 
brutal  but  unfaithful,  and,  after  a  short  and  miserable 
married  life,  had  returned  to  her  father's  house  and  re- 
sumed her  maiden  name.  In  later  years,  Franklin 
wrote  in  his  autobiography  :  "I  consider  my  giddiness 
and  inconstancy  when  in  London  as,  in  a  great  degree, 
the  cause  of  her  unhappiness  ;"  and  in  this  present  crisis 
he  seemed  to  himself  doubly  guilty. 

With  Meredith's  coming  and  the  long  talk  over  ways 
and  means,  more  cheerful  thoughts  arose.  Franklin  had 
already  been  of  such  service  in  checking  the  young  man's 
intemperate  habits,  that  the  father  was  ready  to  advance 
capital  to  set  them  up  in  business,  though  ]SIeredith's 
time  belonged  to  Keimer  until  the  spring.     A  day  or 


A  MASTER  BUILDER. 


325 


two  of  discussion  followed, 
and  then  Keimer,  who  had 
come  to  his  senses — in  other 
words,  received  an  order 
which  he  was  powerless  to 
till  unless  Franklin  would 
aid  him — sent  a  conciliating 
message,  and  the  connection 
was  for  a  time  renewed. 
Some  paper  money  was  to 
be  printed  under  the  super- 
vision of  the  Legislature 
at  Burlington,  and  here 
the  two  spent  the  winter, 
F  r  a  n  k  1  i  n  making  many 
friends  whom  he  retained 
through  life.  The  "Junto" 
had  been  founded  directly 
after  his  return  to  Philadel- 
phia, and  proved  of  the 
greatest  service,  not  only  to 
its  founder,  but  to  Phila- 
delphia and  the  whole 
United  States,  similar  or- 
ganizations being  formed 
at  many  points.  During  a 
large  part  of  his  life  Frank- 
lin took  the  greatest  delight 
in  this  club,  and  the  interest 


CLOCK   IN   THE   PHILADEL- 
PHIA LIBRAKY. 


326  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

was  even  stronger  in  the  beginning.  A  manuscript 
book  is  still  in  existence  filled  with  plans  for  essays,  sug- 
gestions for  debate  and  replies  to  questions,  and  it  was 
a  powerful  influence  in  determining  his  style,  both  as 
writer  and  speaker. 

With  the  following  spring  Franklin  entered  into  part- 
nership with  his  friend  Meredith,  and  began  the  busi- 
ness career  which  lasted  for  many  successful  and 
honorable  years.  The  story  of  its  early  days  is  filled 
with  an  intensely  powerful  inward  experience.  At  fif- 
teen, FrankUn  had  become  a  free-thinker,  but  an  ardent 
and  sensitive  nature  is  never  satisfied  with  negative  be- 
liefs, and  having  gradually  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
mere  denial  held  no  power  to  insure  a  virtuous  life,  he 
formulated  for  himself  a  simple  creed,  made  up  of  six 
articles  : 

' '  I.  There  is  one  God,  the  Creator  of  all  things. 
"II.  God  governs  the  world  by  his  providence. 
"III.  God  ought  to  be  worshipped. 
"IV.  Doing  good  to  men  is  the  service  most  acceptable 
to  God. 

"  V.  Man  is  immortal. 

"VI.  In  the  future  world  the  disembodied  souls  of  men 
will  be  dealt  with  justly." 

The  creed  ended,  he  wrote  out  a  liturgy  for  daily  use, 
filled  with  the  deepest  desires  of  a  noble  mind  and  of 
profoundest  interest  to  every  student  of  character.  The 
little  pocket  prayer-book  in  which  the  whole  is  recorded 
is  written  with  a  careful  elegance  which  witnesses  the 
fervent  interest  he  felt.     A  foi-mal  statement  is  first 


A  Jf ASTER  BUILDER.  327 

made,  called  "  First  Principles,"  the  more  speculative 
portion  of  which  was  in  time  i^jnored,  or  rather  con- 
densed into  the  simple  form  given  above.  A  solemn 
and  tender  invocation  opens  the  liturgy,  and  a  series  of 
petitions  follow,  as  vital  and  deeply  devotional  as  any- 
thing in  the  range  of  genuine  religious  biography.  Xo 
man,  who  daily,  even  in  part,  lived  the  life  or  rose  into 
the  atmosphere  which  such  thought  made  natural, 
could  fail  of  attaining  in  the  end  precisely  the  poise  and 
calm  that  make  Franklin  like  no  other  figure  in  our 
histor)-.  The  growth  was  slow.  Now  and  again  came 
terrible  lapses,  for  at  twenty-one  his  illegitimate  son 
was  born,  and  the  xiutobiography  records  many  sudden 
yieldings  to  temptation.  But  the  sins  were  those  of 
a  hot  and  eager  blood — never  malicious  or  base,  and 
repented  with  a  genuineness  that  was  at  least  partial 
atonement.  From  this  date  on  there  is  steady  progress. 
Marriage  and  a  quiet,  happ}^  life  began;  the  "Poor 
Richard"  era,  in  which  his  business  ability  brought 
him  the  long-waited-for  success,  and  in  which,  though 
often  tempted,  he  steadily  put  away  evei-y  temptation 
to  petty  thought  or  action.  Worldl}'  wisdom  was  strong 
in  him.  lie  knew  the  weaknesses  of  men  and  could 
easily  have  traded  upon  them,  and  his  keen  humor 
could  as  easily  have  degenerated  into  sarcasm  and 
cynicism.  But  each  day  was  governed  by  a  will  steadily 
stronger  for  good.  His  hard  apprenticeship  to  life  was 
at  an  end,  and  before  hiin  lay  the  3ears  each  one  more 
*jr->.i  more  filled  with  the  best  life  of  a  good  man  and 


328  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


good  citizen,  earnest,  sincere  and  true.  As  printer, 
then  publislier,  he  became  "  cliief  instructor,  stimulator 
and  clieerer,"  first  of  Pennsylvania,  then  of  all  the 
colonies. 

When  the  colonial  epoch  ended,  his  mark  as  man  of 
science  was  already  made,  and  his  name  famous  at 
home  and  abroad.  He  was  fifty-nine  years  old,  and 
thus  "  on  the  verge  of  old  age  ;  his  splendid  career  as  a 
scientific  discoverer  and  as  a  citizen  seemed  rounding  to 
its  full ;  yet  there  then  lay  outstretched  before  him — 
though  he  knew  it  not — another  career  of  just  twenty- 
five  years,  in  which  his  political  services  to  his  country 
and  to  mankind  were  to  bring  him  more  glory  than  he 
had  grained  from  all  he  had  done  before." 

To  give  the  further  story  of  Franklin's  life  in  a  few 
pages  would  result  in  simply  a  list  of  dates,  each  with 
its  fact  of  positive  accomplishment.  Such  story  is  no 
part  of  the  present  article,  the  aim  of  which  has  simply 
been  to  give  the  beginnings,  the  foundation-stones,  laid 
one  by  one,  slowly  and  with  pain,  and  Avith  small  thought 
what  noble  and  stately  edifice  would  one  day  rest  upon 
them.  Even  more  than  to  her  founder,  Philadelphia  owes 
to  Franklin  a  debt  it  can  never  pay — schools,  libraries, 
local  improvements  of  every  sort  being  the  direct  and 
personal  work  of  this  untiring  and  creative  mind.  Each 
year  left  him  more  benignant  in  look  and  tone.  Nothing 
moved  him  from  the  cheerful  serenity,  the  gentle  humor 
with  which  he  looked  upon  life.  He  endured  in  later 
years  a  complication  of  diseases,  which  brought  the  ex- 


,'■,     i|  '-f  I  ':t    (   1   ' 


^!^'^|l'^^%A^7 


'     DEBOPwm  J 


FRANKLIN 
1790 


A  MASTER  BUILDER.  331 

tremity  of  physical  suffering,  but  courage  was  strong, 
and  he  worked  on  almost  to  the  last.  Worn  with  pain, 
he  welcomed  the  end.  His  last  look  was  on  the  pic- 
ture of  Christ  which  had  hung  for  many  years  near 
his  bed,  and  of  which  he  often  said,  "  That  is  the 
picture  of  one  who  came  into  the  world  to  teach  men 
to  love  one  another."  The  resolute  repression  of  all 
signs  of  suflering,  every  indication  of  the  long  conflict, 
passed  at  once.  He  lay  smiling  in  a  quiet  slumber, 
and  the  smile  lingered  when  the  coffin-lid  shut  him 
in.  His  grave  is  in  the  heart  of  the  city  he  loved,  and 
even  the  careless  passer-by  pauses  a  moment  to  read 
the  simple  legend. 

Another  epitaph,  written  in  1729,  in  early  manhood, 
holds  his  .chief  characteristics,  his  humor,  his  quiet 
assurance  of  better  things  to  come,  whether  for  this 
world  or  the  next : 

THE   BODY 

OF 

BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN, 

PRINTER 

(like  the  cover  of  an  old  book, 

its  contents  torn  out, 

ant)  stript  of  its  lettering  and  gildino), 

lies  here,  food  for  worms. 

yet  the  work  itself  shall  not  be  lost, 

for  it  will,  as  he  believes,  appear  once  morb. 

in  a  new  and  more  beautiful  edition, 

corrected  and  amended 

BY 

THE   AUTHOR. 

These  curiously  witty  yet  reverent  lines  may  fitly  end 
the  sketch  of  a  life  too  large  to  be  compressed  into 


333  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


written  pages.  Wife  and  child  lie  near  him  — the  little 
son  who  knew  only  four  years  of  mortal  life,  and  whose 
memory  lingered  with  the  father  through  every  chance 
and  change  of  the  half  century  that  divided  them.  It 
is  a  simple  monument,  but  his  best  record  is  in  the 
minds  of  earnest  men  for  whose  lives  he  laid  better 
foundations  than  without  him  could  have  been  possible. 


EARLY  ABOLITIONISTS. 


No  NATION  on  earth  has  quite  the  capacity  for 
forgetting  injuries  that  characterizes  the  American 
people.  Where  the  brooding,  sullen  Saxon  tempera- 
ment is  strongest,  the  clear  sky,  the  swift  winds  and 
wide  horizons  of  the  new  home,  and  the  busy  life  as 
well,  have  altered  hereditary  characteristics  and  the  ca- 
pacity for  resentment  has  lessened.  Even  when  most 
deeply  stirred  the  brutal  element  has,  save  in  the  lowest 
class,  almost  totally  disappeared.  Persistence  to  the 
point  of  doggedness  until  the  end  is  gained,  and  then  a 
good-humored  shaking  of  hands  and  a  taking  for 
granted  that  all  differences  are  buried  and  the  future  to 
hold  a  common  purpose  and  a  common  progress  to  the 
same  end,  characterizes  the  American  of  to-day.  And 
in  the  fear  that  his  adversary's  feelings  may  be  wounded 
he  refuses  to  preserve  records  of  strife,  and  almost  for- 
gets himself  how  the  quarrel  went  on  or  why  it  began 
at  all. 

The  capacity  for  apology  increases  year  by  year.  In 
the  reaction  against  the  intolerance  and  bigotry  of  our 
fathers,  we  forget  the  sturdy  virtues  such  traits  covered 
or  represented.  Some  one  has  summed  up  the  Ameri- 
can character  as  a  "  mush  of  concession,"  and  our  treat- 

S33 


334  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


meut  of  offenders— whether  the  criminal  pardoned  out 
while  the  sound  of  the  sentence  to  just  punishment  is 
still  in  his  ears,  or  the  condoning  of  all  offenses  against 
social  law  and  life— would  seem  to  confirm  the  verdict. 
That  an  emergency  finds  always  determined  and  reso- 
lute men  and  women  ready  for  it,  does  not  hinder  the 
fact  that  the  arising  of  such  emergency  could  often  have 
been  prevented,  had  common  sense  or  any  wise  forecast 
been  used  in  the  beginning.  The  eagerness  to  avoid 
offense  and  the  determination  to  have  every  one  as  com- 
fortable as  possible  stand  always  in  the  way  of  any  re- 
view of  past  differences  or  future  possibiUties  of  differ- 
ence. Reminiscence  is  frowned  upon,  and  thus  one  of 
the  most  effectual  means  of  developing  manhood  and 
genuine  patriotism  is  lost.  The  boy's  blood  may  tingle 
as  he  hears 

"  How  well  Horatius  kept  the  bridge, 
In  the  brave  days  of  old ;" 

but  the  brave  day  that  is  but  yesterday  is  a  sealed  book, 
its  story,  if  told  at  all,  given  in  a  whisper  subdued 
enough  to  prevent  any  possibihty  of  discomfort  for  sen- 
sitive or  squeamish  listener. 

"What  was  it  all  for,  anyway?"  asked  a  boy  of 
twelve  not  long  ago,  who,  in  his  school  history  of  the 
United  States  had  come  to  the  civil  war,  and  who,  like 
a  large  pi-oportion  of  the  boys  of  this  generation,  found 
it  of  more  remote  interest  even  than  the  war  of  the 
Revolution.  His  father  had  been  one  of  its  volunteers, 
and  the  family  record  held  name  after  name  of  friends 


W.    U.    iUliAiibS,   JJ.  U.,  LL.l;. 


EARL  Y  AB  OLITIONISTS.  337 

fallen  in  the  conflict  we  are  all  forgetting  ;  yet  the  child, 
true  to  our  American  theories,  was  growing  up  with  no 
sense  of  what  the  issue  meant,  and  with  an  impatient 
disregard  of  worn-out  details. 

We  "love  mercy  "  so  well  that  we  forget  that  the 
first  clause  of  the  old  command  is  to  "do  justly,"  and 
so  5'ear  by  year  the  capacity. for  justice  lessens.  Keen 
moral  sense  is  blunted,  and  life  becomes  more  and  more 
a  system  of  shadings,  and  black  and  white  simply 
clouded,  uncertain  and  dirty  gray. 

Such  word  seems  necessary  in  beginning  any  mention 
of  a  party  to  whose  unconquerable  and  marvelous  per- 
sistence is  due  every  result  of  good  in  the  conflict  which 
ended  forever  ail  need  of  their  further  work.  That  the 
early  Abolitionists  were  often  bitter,  fierce,  intolerant, 
was  the  inevitable  consequence  of  an  intense  purpose, 
and  the  narrowness  that,  save  in  the  rarest  exceptions, 
is  the  necessary  accompaniment  of  intensitj .  It  is  never 
the  broad  and  quiet  lake,  knowing  no  obstruction,  that 
rushes  on  to  the  sea.  It  is  the  stream  shut  in  by  rocks 
and  fed  from  hidden  sources  that  swells  and  deepens  till 
no  man's  hand  can  bind  or  stay  the  sweeping  current. 

It  is  possible  that  the  time  has  not  yet  come  for  dis- 
passionate statement,  Init  it  is  also  a  question  if  dispas- 
sionateness be  the  only  quality  it  is  worth  while  for 
Americans  to  cultivate.  Too  often  it  ends  as  indift'er- 
entism,  and  when  that  stage  is  reached  progress  becomes 
impossible.  In  spite  of  our  modern  tendencies,  it  is 
still  worth  while  to  feel  strongly,  to  believe  intensely, 


338  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

to  live  as  if  life  had  meaning,  and  there  is  no  stronger 
incitement  than  the  knowledge  of  earnest  lives  lived 
through  difficulties  of  which  we  have  but  faintest  con- 
ception, and  ending  often  without  any  consciousness 
that  their  purposes  had  been  recognized  or  their  dreams 
become  realities. 

Quiet  but  always  untiring  and  undaunted  Avorkers, 
these  steady,  clear-eyed  men  and  women  passed  over  to 
the  majority,  and,  like  the  workers  of  an  earlier  day, 
they  "received  not  the  promise,  God  having  provided 
some  better  thing  for  us,  that  they  without  us  should 
not  be  made  perfect."  Comprehension  of  their  princi- 
ples, loving  remembrance  of  every  faithful  act  is  the 
only  method  in  which  through  us  they  may  have  full 
sense  of  what  their  labor  meant,  and  thus  find  the  heart 
of  the  old  words,  which,  if  they  mean  an3fthing,  mean 
surely  that  till  we  do  understand,  their  happiness  lacks 
its  full  completion. 

Philadelphia  and  Boston  represent  the  most  earnest 
work  of  a  period,  the  fire  and  fervor  of  which  are  now 
almost  incompi-ehensible.  With  Philadelphia,  the  first 
step  taken  was  by  William  Ponn,  who,  in  his  second 
visit,  labored  anxiously  to  undo  certain  results  of  his 
action  which  he  had  not  foi-eseen.  In  1685,  sending 
over  various  directions  to  his  deputies  concerning  ser- 
vants to  be  employed,  he  had  written  :  "It  were  better 
they  were  blacks,  for  then  a  man  has  them  while  they 
live."  At  this  time  negroes  had  been  brought  in  in 
some  numbers,  and  the  most  conscientious  Friends  held 


EARL  Y  AB  OLITIONISTS.  339 

slaves,  though  as  early  as  1671  George  Fox  had  advised 
the  Friends  in  Barbadoes  to  "  train  up  their  slaves  in 
the  fear  of  God,  to  cause  their  overseers  to  deal  mildly 
and  gently  with  them,  and,  after  certain  years  of  servi- 
tude, they  should  make  them  free." 

The  necessity  for  such  measures  had  become  evident 
to  Penn  ;  and  the  German  Friends  who  settled  German- 
town,  and  Avho,  in  1088,  brought  before  the  Yearly 
Meeting  the  question  "■  concerning  the  lawfulness  and 
unlawfulness  of  buying  and  keeping  negroes,"  pressed  it 
still  further  upon  his  attention.  By  1G90  so  many  evils 
had  resulted  that  advice  was  issued  at  the  Yearly  Meet- 
ing "  that  Friends  be  careful  not  to  encourage  the  bring- 
ing in  any  more  negroes ;  and  that  such  that  have 
negroes  be  careful  of  them,  bring  them  to  meetings, 
have  meetings  with  them  in  their  families,  and  restrain 
them  from  loose  and  lewd  living  as  much  as  in  them 
hes,  and  from  rambling  abroad  on  First-day  or  other 
times." 

From  this  date  began  a  very  gradual  emancipation, 
but  eighty  years  passed  before  the  entire  prohibition  of 
slaveholding  was  made  part  of  the  discipline  of  the  so- 
ciety. In  1700  Penn  brought  before  the  Provincial  Coun- 
cil a  law  for  regulating  the  marriage  of  negroes,  but  it 
failed  to  pass,  and  the  record  tells  how  ''he  mourned 
over  the  state  of  the  slaves,  but  his  attempts  to  improve 
their  condition  by  legal  enactments  were  defeated  in  the 
house  of  Assembly." 

In  his  own  religious  society  he  was  more  successful. 


840  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

the  minute  of  the  Monthly  Meeting  in  the  same  year 
having  this  item  :  "Our  dear  friend  and  governor  having 
laid  before  the  meeting  a  concern  that  hath  laid  upon 
his  mind  for  some  time  concerning  the  negroes  and  In- 
dians ;  that  Friends  ought  to  be  very  careful  in  dis- 
charging a  good  conscience  toward  them  in  all  respects, 
but  more  especially  for  the  good  of  their  souls,  and  that 
they  might,  as  frequent  as  may  be,  come  to  meeting  on 
First-days ;  upon  consideration  whereof  this  meeting 
concludes  to  appoint  a  meeting  for  the  negi'oes,  to  be  kept 
once  a  month,  and  that  their  masters  give  notice  thereof 
in  their  own  families  and  be  present  with  them  at  the 
said  meetings  as  frequent  as  may  be." 

Though  charged  with  having  died  a  slaveholder,  it 
was  certainly  not  because  no  proper  means  were  taken 
for  liberating  his  slaves,  for  in  his  will,  made  in  1701, 
Penn  liberated  every  slave  in  his  possession,  the  will 
being  now  in  the  hands  of  Thomas  Gilpin,  of  Philadel- 
phia, and  containing  this  clause  :  "  I  give  to  my  blacks 
their  freedom  as  is  under  my  hand  already,  and  to  old 
Sam  one  hundred  acres,  to  be  his  children's,  after  he  and 
his  wife  are  dead,  forever." 

His  intentions  were  not  perfectly  carried  out,  as  is 
evident  from  one  of  James  Logan's  letters  to  Hannah 
Penn,  written  in  1721,  and  now  to  be  seen  in  the  Histori- 
cal Society's  rooms,  in  which  he  says  :  "  The  proprietor, 
in  a  will  left  with  me  at  his  departure  hence,  gave  all  his 
negroes  their  freedom,  hut  this  is  entirely  private;  how- 
ever, there  are  very  few  left."    Any  failure  in  action  on 


ISAAC    T.    HOPPER. 


EARL  T  AB  OLITIONTSTS.  343 

his  executors'  part  need  not,  however,  be  charged  upon 
Penn  himself,  who  must,  without  question,  rank  as  the 
first  Pliiladelphia  Abolitionist. 

Only  an  occasional  remonstrance  was  heard  at  rare  in- 
tervals for  many  years.  The  love  of  money  and  of  power 
was  too  strong  among  the  wealthy  merchants  of  the  city 
or  the  large  planters  in  the  outlying  country,  and  nothing 
could  be  obtained  from  the  Yearly  Meeting  but  a  mild 
suggestion  that  further  importation  of  slaves  was  un- 
desirable, while  many  a  serious,  di'ab-coated  member 
argued  with  glibness  in  the  same  line  of  defense  of  op- 
pression and  avarice  followed  b}-  Presbyterian  and  Epis- 
copalian doctors  of  divinity,  and,  indeed,  by  the  churches 
in  general.  Nothing  could  well  be  darker  than  the  out- 
look, 3'et  in  that  darkness  a  force  was  working  unknown 
and  unseen,  the  first  visible  spark  showing  itself  at  a 
point  so  remote  and  inconspicuous  that  it  held  no  sug- 
gestion of  the  steady  light  soon  to  shine  out  with  a  glow 
and  intensity  that  even  to-day  is  as  powerful  as  a  hundred 
years  ago. 

Few  souls  since  the  Christian  era  began  have  held 
more"  of  the  spirit  of  the  Master  than  that  of  John 
Woolman,  living  and  dying  in  poverty  and  obscurity, 
yet  leaving  in  his  journal  a  record  of  self-denying  labor 
so  simple  and  tender,  not  only  in  spirit  but  in  language 
also,  that  one  need  not  wonder  at  Charles  Lamb's  en- 
thusiasm as  he  wrote :  "  Get  the  writings  of  John  Wool- 
man  by  heart."  Born  in  1720,  his  first  action  against 
the  principles  of  slavery  was  not  taken  till  1742,  when, 


344  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


in  drawing  up  an  instrument  for  the  transfer  of  a  slave, 
he  felt  a  sudden  and  strong  scruple  against  such  dese- 
cration of  anything  owning  a  soul.  From  this  dated  a 
life-long  testimony  against  slavery,  and  for  many  years 
he  traveled  from  point  to  point,  never  vehement  or  de- 
nunciatory, but  pleading  always,  with  a  gentleness  that 
proved  irresistible,  the  cause  of  the  oppressed. 

In  the  meantime  a  quaint  and  curious  figure  had  en- 
tered the  same  way,  but  with  small  thought  of  persua- 
sion or  consideration.  Coming  to  Philadelphia  from 
the  West  Indies  where  he  had  become  deeply  interested 
in  the  condition  of  the  slaves,  Benjamin  Lay,  furious  at 
finding  the  same  evil  existing  there,  shook  off  the  dust 
of  the  faithless  city  and  took  up  his  dwelling  a  few 
miles  out.  Here  he  lived  in  a  natural  cave,  slightly 
improved  by  a  ceiling  of  beams,  drinking  only  water 
from  a  spring  near  his  door  and  eating  only  vegetables. 
He  refused  to  wear  any  garment  or  eat  any  food  whose 
manufacture  or  preparation  involved  the  loss  of  animal 
life  or  was  the  result  of  slave  labor.  On  the  last  point 
John  Woolman  was  in  full  accord  with  him,  but  found 
it  a  struggle  to  wear  the  undyed  homespun  which  he 
finally  assumed,  as  the  necessary  badge  of  the  simplicity 
he  preached. 

No  concern  for  the  prejudices  or  feelings  of  others 
hampered  the  career  of  the  irrepressible  Benjamin, 
whose  figure  was  no  less  eccentric  than  his  life.  "  Only 
four  and  a  half  feet  high,  hunchbacked,  with  projecting 
chest,  legs  small  and  uneven,  arms  longer  than  his  legs, 


^iir^' 


LEWIS   TAPPAN. 


EARL  Y  AB  OLITIONISTS.  347 

a  huge  head,  showing  only  beneath  the  enormous  white 
hat,  large,  solemn  eyes  and  a  prominent  nose  ;  the  rest 
of  his  face  covered  with  a  snowy  semi-circle  of  beard  fall- 
ing low  on  his  breast,"  this  fierce  and  prophetical 
brownie  or  kobold  made  unexpected  dashes  into  the 
calm  precincts  of  the  Friends'  meeting-houses,  and  was 
the  gad-fly  of  every  assembly.  A  fury  of  protest  pos- 
sessed him — a  power  of  energetic  denunciation  abso- 
lutely appalling  to  the  steady-minded  Quakers.  At  one 
time  when  the  Yearly  Meeting  was  in  progress,  he  sud- 
denly appeared  marching  up  the  aisle  in  his  long,  white 
overcoat,  regardless  of  the  solemn  silence  prevailing. 
He  stopped  suddenly  when  midway  and  exclaiming, 
"You  slaveholders!  Why  don't  you  throw  off  your 
Quaker  coats  as  I  do  mine,  and  show  yourselves  as  you 
are  ?"  at  the  same  moment  threw  off  his  coat.  Under- 
neath was  a  military  coat  and  a  sword  dangling  against 
his  heels.  "  Holding  in  one  hand  a  large  book,  he 
drew  his  sword  with  the  other.  '  In  the  sight  of  God,' 
he  cried,  'you  are  as  guilty  as  if  you  stabbed  your 
slaves  to  the  heart,  as  I  do  this  book  !'  suiting  the  ac- 
tion to  the  Avord,  and  piercing  a  small  bladder  filled 
with  the  juice  of  the  poke-weed  ( Phytolacca  decandra), 
which  he  had  concealed  between  the  covers,  and  sprin- 
kling as  with  fresh  blood  those  who  sat  near  him." 

John  Woolman's  testimony  was  of  quite  another 
character,  but  Benjamin  Lay  was  the  counterpart  as 
well  as  forerunner  of  many  less  rational  agitators  who 
in  later  years  could  never  separate  the  oftender  from  the 


348  A  SYLVAH  CITY. 

sin  often  ignorantly  and  innocently  committed.  Offen- 
sive as  his  course  was  felt  to  be,  it  was  one  of  the  active 
forces  which  no  doubt  had  aided  in  paving  the  way  to 
the  decisive  action  of  1758,  a  date  important  not  only 
in  the  history  of  the  anti-slavery  cause  but  as  one  of  the 
most  important  religious  convocations  the  Christian 
church  has  ever  known.  Through  the  general  business 
John  Woolman  sat  silent,  and  silent,  too,  as  one  and 
another  faithful  Friend  gave  in  their  testimony  against 
any  further  toleration  of  slavery  as  a  S3^stem.  Then  he 
rose  and  made  an  appeal,  whose  solemn  tenderness 
still  thrills  every  reader,  and  which,  when  eye  and  voice 
and  all  the  influence  of  the  gentle  yet  intensely  earnest 
presence  were  added,  rendered  more  than  momentary  op- 
position impossible.  Then  and  there  the  meeting  agreed 
.that  the  injunction  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  to  do  to 
others  as  we  would  that  others  should  do  to  us,  should 
induce  Friends  who  held  slaves  "  to  set  them  at  liberty, 
making  a  Christian  provision  for  them,"  and  four 
Friends— John  Woolman,  John  Scarborough,  Daniel 
Stanton  and  John  Sykes — were  approved  of  as  suitable 
persons  to  visit  and  treat  with  such  as  kept  slaves, 
within  the  limits  of  the  meeting. 

Naturally,  outside  these  limits  there  was  steady  op- 
position. The  record  gives  many  years  of  effort  in 
which  only  a  proportion  could  be  brought  to  admit  the 
injustice  or  wrong  of  slavery,  but  it  was  a  proportion  that 
increased  yearly.  Through  all  weariness  and  discour- 
agement John  Woolman  went  his  patient  way,  journey- 


EARL  Y  AB  OLITIONISTS.  349 

ing  on  foot  wherever  in  the  widely-separated  settlements 
the  voice  of  the  oppressed  seemed  to  call,  and  leaving 
always  behind  him  a  memory  of  pitying  love  and  devo- 
tion, before  which  all  defenses  fell.  But  the  practice, 
though  abating,  required  more  active  measures,  and  in 
1776  came  the  final  action  of  the  Yearly  Meeting,  all 
subordinate  meetings  being  then  directed  to  deni)  the 
right  of  membership  to  such  as  persisted  in  holding  their 
fellow-men  as  property.  Four  yeai's  before  this  con- 
summation for  which  he  had  spent  his  life,  John  Wool- 
man  had  passed  on  to  the  unhampered  life  and  work  of 
a  country  where  bond  and  free  are  equal.  Deep  hope- 
lessness came  for  a  time  on  those  who  had  worked  with 
him,  and  who,  as  he  passed  from  sight,  murmured  again 
the  sad  old  words,  "we  thought  this  had  been  he  who 
should  have  redeemed  Israel." 

But  the  thread  in  this  apostolical  succession  was  not 
lost.  If  transmigration  were  an  admittable  theory,  one 
might  say  that  the  soul  of  John  Woolman  sought  some 
fitting  medium  to  continue  its  work,  and  found  lodg- 
ment in  the  baby  that  in  December,  1771,  opened  its 
eyes  on  a  world  through  which  it  journeyed  with  all  the 
energy  and  purpose  that  had  led  the  elder  man — with  all 
his  sweetness  too,  but  with  a  courageous  cheer  the  frailer 
body  had  never  known.  For  Isaac  Hopper  came  of 
sturdy  stock,  and,  though  Quaker  on  one  side  of  the 
house,  did  not  become  a  member  of  the  Society  of 
Friends  till  he  was  twenty-two,  and  then  through  the 
preaching  of  William  Savery  and  Mary  Ridgeway,  two 


350  A  SYLVAN-  CITY. 


Friends  who  were  often  heard  in  the  Philadelphia  meet- 
ings.    Through  WiUiam  Savery's  agency  Elizabeth  Fry 
turned  to  the  work  which  he  had  prophesied  would  be 
hers,  and  which  in  later  life  became  Isaac  Hopper's 
also.     Already  the  Pennsylvania  Abohtion  Society  had 
been  formed,  and  in  his  early  boyhood  Isaac   Hopper 
had  had  his  first  experience  in  aiding  a  fugitive  slave  to 
elude  pursuit,  and  find  quarters  where  none  could  mo- 
lest or  make  him  afraid.     Married  in  1795  and  settling 
permanently  in  Philadelphia,  he  became  at  once  a  lead- 
ing member  of  the  Pennsylvania  Abolition  Society,  as 
well  as  one  of  the  overseers  of  a  school  for  colored  chil- 
dren,   a    memorial    of  Anthony    Benezet,   a    French 
Huguenot  by  birth,  whose  house  remained  standing  on 
Chestnut    street  until  1840.     Anthony  is  described  as 
"a  small,  eager-faced  man,  full  of  zeal  and  activity, 
constantly  engaged  in  works  of  benevolence,  Avhich  were 
by  no  means  confined  to  the  blacks,  and  who  was  an 
untiring  friend   to   the    unhappy  Acadians,    many  of 
whom  were  landed  in  Philadelphia  by  the  ships  which 
brought  them  from  Nova  Scotia." 

In  this  school,  and  in  one  founded  later  for  colored 
adults,  he  taught  two  or  three  evenings  each  week  for 
many  years,  and  had  become  known  throughout  Phila- 
delphia as  the  friend  and  legal  adviser  of  colored  people 
under  every  emergency.  From  1795  to  1829,  when  he 
removed  to  New  York,  each  year  held  its  record  of 
courage  and  zeal  in  a  work  more  and  more  necessary  as 
time   went  on.     Runaways    were    constantly    passing 


% 


JLUCRETIA   MOTT. 


EARL  Y  AB  OLITIONISTS.  353 

through  the  city,  and  the  laws  of  that  date  were  neither 
understood  nor  attended  to.  AVhenever  a  negro  ar- 
rested as  a  fugitive  slave  was  discharged  for  want  of 
proof,  no  fee  was  paid  ;  but  if  the  verdict  made  him  a 
slave,  and  he  was  surrendered  to  his  claimant,  from 
five  to  twenty  dollars  were  given  to  the  magistrate. 
Naturally  they  made  the  most  of  any  facts  in  favor  of 
slavery,  and  thus  there  was  never  wanting  opportunity 
for  the  efforts  of  men  like  Hopper,  who  took  delight  in 
suddenly  confounding  and  upsetting  the  best-laid  plans. 
A  volume  would  be  necessary  for  the  stories  which 
Father  Hopper  in  later  years  told  to  all  who  questioned, 
and  many  of  which  were  printed  in  the  Anti- Slavery 
Standard  and  other  organs  of  the  society,  a  mine  for  all 
who  would  know  the  spirit  and  purpose  of  one  of  the 
most  intense  and  persistent  struggles  ever  made  on 
American  soil.  Appeal  was  seldom  resorted  to,  for 
Father  Hopper's  wit  was  as  keen  as  his  heart  was  big, 
and  his  personal  presence  so  strong  and  impressive  that 
even  his  enemies  looked  with  an  admiration  they  could 
not  repress  on  the  noble  face  and  figure  of  this  smiling 
marplot  of  all  their  schemes.  With  a  sense  of  humor 
that  seemed  always  to  conflict  slightly  with  his  Quaker 
garb  and  principles,  he  had  also  the  power  of  an  indig- 
nation that  could  scorch  and  shrivel ;  iiiul  like  all  men 
who  have  the  courage  of  their  convictions,  made  ene- 
mies, who  in  some  cases,  after  a  fury  of  opposition, 
turned  about  and  became  the  strongest  of  friends. 
The    yearly   meetings   of   the   Anti-Slavery   Society 


354  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


brought  together  a  hst  of  names  each  one  representing 
individuaUties  so  marked  and  positive  that  only  the 
fervor  of  a  common  purpose  could  have  made  working 
together  practicable.  In  that  early  group  women  were 
as  prominent  as  at  a  later  day,  and  among  them  all 
none  was  more  completely  olilivious  of  self  than  Abi- 
gail Goodwin,  who  Uved  to  see  the  last  chain  broken, 
after  seventy-four  years  of  unwearying  effort.  Her  own 
clothes  were  patched  and  forlorn  far  beyond  those  of  the 
average  beggar,  but  worn  with  a  calm  unconsciousness 
of  their  extraordinary  character  ;  and,  indeed,  few  who 
looked  on  the  earnest  face,  with  its  half-sad,  half-humor- 
ous intensity,  stopped  to  consider  what  garb  was  worn. 
She  worked  for  the  slave  as  a  mother  works  for  her  own 
children,  begging  garments  which  she  mended  or  made 
over  indefatigably  ;  knitting  bag  after  bag  of  stockings, 
and  sitting  up  half  the  night  to  earn  some  petty  sum 
turned  over  instantly  to  the  society.  She  wrote  for 
every  anti-slavery  journal,  begged  in  every  direction  for 
money,  implored  friends  to  take  stock  in  the  Under- 
ground Railroad,  and  to  the  last  day  of  her  life  burned 
with  an  actual  passion  of  good-will ;  and,  it  must  be 
added,  an  equal  inability  to  conceive  that  a  slaveholder 
mio-ht  also  have  some  conception  of  justice  and  hu- 
manity. 

Her  belief  was  shared  by  another  woman,  equally  no- 
table and  among  the  earliest  organizers  in  such  work — 
Esther  Moore,  the  wife  of  Dr.  Robert  Moore.  The  pas- 
sage  of  the   Fugitive  Slave  bill  necessarily  intensified 


EABL  Y  AB  OLITIONISTS.  357 

all  feeling  and  made  dispassionate  thought  impossible, 
and  though  nearlj^  eighty  when  this  crowning  iniquity 
became  a  portion  of  United  States  law,  she  worked 
against  the  results  with  the  eagerness  of  her  youth.  For 
many  years  she  had  begged  that  special  notification 
should  be  sent  her  of  every  fugitive  who  passed  through 
Philadelphia,  and  during  the  whole  time  made  it  her 
business  to  supply  to  each  one  a  gold  dollar,  the  Society 
being  barely  able  to  defray  their  expenses  on  to  the  next 
station,  with  no  provision  for  wants  when  the  final  one 
was  reached.  With  larger  personal  means  than  Aliigail 
Goodwin,  she  denied  herself  in  all  possible  ways  that  the 
little  coin  might  be  always  ready  for  the  empty  hand, 
and  almost  her  last  injunction  was:  "  Write  to  Oliver 
Johnson,  and  tell  him  I  die  firm  in  the  faith.  Mind 
the  slave !" 

"  Mind  the  slave  !"  was  the  watchword  for  all.  De- 
pression seems  to  have  been  unknown.  In  fact,  there 
was  no  time  for  depression,  for  between  the  opposition, 
which  is  always  a  stimulant,  and  the  actual  work  of  pro- 
viding food,  clothing  and  means  for  the  throng  of  fugi- 
tives, there  was  unfailing  and  unceasing  occupation  for 
all.  High-hearted  courage  and  self-sacrifice  inspired  all 
alike,  and  the  mere  coming  together  of  men  and  women 
animated  by  a  profound  conviction  was  in  itself  almost 
a  Pentecost. 

In  removing  from  Philadelphia  Isaac  Hopper's  inter- 
est was  in  degree  transferred  to  the  New  York  society, 
and  the  work  he  had  done  passed  into   the   hands  of 


358  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

Thomas  Shipley,  for  many  years  President  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania Abolition  Society,  of  which  he  became  an  active 
member  in  1817.  Opjoosition  made  no  impression  upon 
him,  and  he  devoted  every  energy  of  his  powerful  and 
judicial  mind  to  defense  not  only  of  the  principles  he 
held,  but  of  every  one  who  needed  their  application,  the 
thousands  who  followed  him  to  his  grave,  in  1836,  being 
the  best  witnesses  of  what  his  life  had  done  for  both  black 
and  white.  Almost  the  same  words  might  be  said  of 
Thomas  Gai'rett,  who,  though  living  in  AVilmington, 
was  a  familiar  figure  in  every  public  meeting  at  Phila- 
delphia, and  who,  while  as  unobtrusive  as  Daniel  Gib- 
bons, another  of  the  earlier  worthies,  fought  to  the  end 
with  unceasing  vigor,  not  only  for  the  slave,  but  for 
every  cause  affecting  the  public  good.  To  give  the  com- 
plete roll  of  these  names,  each  one  deserving  full  biog- 
raphy, is  impossible  in  present  limits,  but  there  is  ample 
material  and  opportunity  for  a  series  of  lives,  which,  if 
properly  given,  should  hold  no  less  power  and  fascina- 
tion than  those  of  Plutarch. 

As  one  by  one  the  names  on  the  society  roll  received 
the  significant  asterisk,  new  ones,  to  become  no  less 
honored  and  honorable,  took  their  places.  Popular  feel- 
ing, which,  contrary  to  received  belief,  is  by  no  means 
always  the  voice  of  God,  became  more  and  more  embit- 
tered against  the  movement.  Riots  had  taken  place 
not  only  in  Boston  and  New  York,  but  in  the  more  law- 
abiding  Philadelphia.  Abolitionists  were  regarded  as 
disturbers  of,  the  public  peace,  interferers  with  private 


MARY    GKEW. 


EARLY  ABOLITIONISTS.  361 

business  and  profit,  and  murmurs  of  indignation  turned 
at  last  to  veritable  howls.  The  passage  of  the  Fugitive 
Slave  bill  did  more  to  intensify  conviction  on  both  sides 
and  to  precipitate  the  issue  of  ten  years  later  than  any 
act  of  the  fifty  years  of  steadily  increasing  oppression  by 
which  it  had  been  preceded.  Fanaticism  had  lessened 
and  the  society  held  names  representing  the  broadest 
and  deepest  culture  of  the  time,  that  of  Dr.  Furness 
holding  a  power  hardly  less  than  that  of  Dr.  Channing. 
A  man  consecrated  to  the  scholar's  life,  both  by  inheri- 
tance and  personal  tastes,  he  turned  from  "  the  still  air 
of  delightful  studies  "  to  a  conflict,  endurable  only  be- 
cause its  failure  or  success  meant  the  failure  or  success 
of  every  moral  question.  The  men  who  banded  to- 
gether in  that  pregnant  ten  years :  Furness,  Charles 
Cleveland,  Miller  McKim,  Tappan,  the  Burleighs,  Bir- 
ney,  Peirce,  and  the  "honorable  women  not  a  few," 
Lucretia  Mott,  Mary  Grew,  the  Lewis  sisters,  did  a 
W'ork  in  which  lay  the  seed  of  every  reform  we  compla- 
cently regard  as  the  eflect  of  our  republican  institutions. 
There  were  years  in  which  these  much-vaunted  institu- 
tions covered  as  absolute  a  despotism  as  that  of  Eussia, 
church  and  state  uniting  to  preserve  established  order, 
and  threatening  with  the  terrors  of  the  law  any  rash 
soul  who  questioned  their  justice.  Such  fate  overtook 
Passmore  Wilhamson,  who  accepted  imprisonment  as 
the  price  of  free  speech ;  and  who,  though  pelted  with 
abuse  as  abductor,  rioter  and  disturber  of  the  public 
peace,   left    his  prison  with  the  knowledge  that  the 


862  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

months,  »o  far  from  being  lost  time,  had  worked  for 
him  beyond  any  power  he  alone  could  have  ever  had. 

Day  by  day  stories  more  thrilling  than  any  page  has 
ever  held  were  poured  into  the  ears  of  the  society.  The 
Underground  llailroad  worked  day  and  night  transfer- 
ring fugitives,  and  covered  its  operations  so  perfectly 
that  until  the  time  came  when  the  need  for  concealment 
ended  no  one  outside  the  organization  knew  its  officers 
or  its  methods.  The  full  story  has  been  told  by  William 
Still  in  a  book  which  ought  to  be  far  better  known  than 
it  is,  holding,  as  it  does,  the  record  of  the  Pliiladelphia 
branch  of  the  road,  and  giving  the  results  of  all  the 
years  of  organization.  The  incredible  perils  and  hard- 
ships of  the  innumerable  fugitives  are  only  exceeded 
by  the  self-denying  lives  of  the  men  and  women  who, 
for  the  sake  of  a  principle,  sacrificed  ease  and  wealth 
and  all  personal  ambition,  and  gave  themselves  and  all 
they  had  to  the  work  of  redemption.  No  name  in  the 
long  list  shines  with  purer  light  than  that  of  Lucretia 
Mott,  who  united  absolute  fidelity  to  every  private  re- 
sponsibility with  a  devotion  to  the  highest  public  duties 
that  has  had  hardly  a  parallel.  Protestation  was  her 
birthright,  for  on  the  mother's  side  she  was  descended 
from  old  Peter  Polger,  also  the  ancestor  of  Franklin, 
who  sent  out  from  Nantucket,  in  1676,  a  vigorous  testi- 
mony to  the  need  of  religious  toleration  for  all.  His 
"A  Looking-Glass  for  the  Times"  is  "one  long  jet  of 
manly,  ungrammatical,  valiant  doggerel,"  and  at  the 
end,  determined  to  evade  no  responsibility,  he  "wove 


GKACE    ANNA    LEWIS. 


EARL  T  AB  OLITIOXISTS.  865 

his  name  and  his  place  of  abode  into  the  tissue  of  his 
verse,"  that  all  might  know  who  he  was  and  Avhere  he 
could  he  found  if  need  arose. 

This  blood,  tempered  by  that  of  the  Coffins  and  Macys, 
and  subdued  by  generations  of  Quaker  discipline,  never 
lost  a  certain  effervescing  quality,  and  to  the  day  of  her 
death  Lucretia  Mott's  lambent  eyes  were  witness  to 
the  nature  of  the  spirit  that  dwelt  within.  The  "con- 
secration and  the  dream "  were  never  divided.  An 
almost  perfect  marriage — a  life  that  dwelt  in  her  home 
and  children,  yet  opened  wide  to  every  noble  thought 
and  aim,  assured  her  personal  happiness  and  made  in- 
evitable trials  light.  She  could  denounce,  but  her  mind 
was  judicial,  and  she  saw  always  both  sides  of  a  ques- 
tion, presenting  them  with  a  candor  that  at  times 
enraged  the  more  narrow  and  prejudiced  members.  Her 
life  is  still  to  be  written,  but  in  the  long  line  of  Phila- 
delphia Abolitionists  no  name  can  ever  hold  more  honor 
or  dearer  remembrance.  The  old  days  are  past  and  the 
generation  that  knew  them  is  passing  too.  They  die, 
but  their  work  is  immortal,  and  whether  forgotten  or 
remembered,  without  it  the  republic  would  have  been  a 
failure  and  social  progress  a  vain  dream. 


MEDICAL  EDUCATION. 


The  student  who  takes  his  place  to-day  in  the  amphi- 
theatre of  the  University  Hospital  and  watches  the 
stages  of  some  critical  and  delicate  operation,  or  who 
finds  the  dissecting-room  lighted  and  his  "subject" 
made,  by  modern  applications  of  science,  as  little  offen- 
sive as  possible,  has  small  conception  of  the  diflflculties 
that  even  fifty  years  ago  made  medical  study  something 
to  be  snatched  at  in  secret.  The  traditions  of  the  past 
hedged  about  every  practitioner  and  barred  the  way  to 
investigation  for  every  student.  The  physician  of  the 
past  held  the  same  relation  to  the  general  public  that 
the  "  medicine-man  "  of  the  present  does  to  the  circle  of 
believers  who  watch  his  movements  with  an  awed  con- 
viction that  his  power  comes  straight  from  another 
world.  To  them  the  black  art  and  medicine  are  synony- 
mous, and  for  all  rude  communities  this  is  more  or  less 
the  accepted  view.  Religious  rites  are  an  essential  part 
of  the  medical  system  for  the  savage,  and  this  theory 
has  been  perpetuatetl  by  the  fact  that  the  clergy  were 
also  the  physicians  of  the  early  colonists,  and  that  pill 
and  powder  had  an  adck-d  unction  and  efficacy  when 
administered  by  holy  hands.  Each  step  toward  any  real 
scientific  basis  has  been  hampered  by  such  traditions 

867 


368  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

and  by  the  credulity  and  stupidity  of  the  present,  and 
even  now  the  most  distinguished  scholars  in  the  pro- 
fession admit  that  medicine  cannot  yet  be  called  an 
exact  science. 

In  such  admission  is  its  surest  hope  for  the  future, 
and  the  eager  experimenters  who,  at  all  the  great  cen- 
tres of  the  civilized  world,  are  searching  into  the  secrets 
of  life  and  of  disease,  are  building  up  a  system  which 
has  truer  foundation  than  any  laid  since  the  story  of 
disease  and  death  began  for  the  world. 

In  such  researches  Philadelphia  has  in  many  points 
led  the  way  for  American  students.  In  Boston  the 
chief  physician  for  a  time  was  also  a  Presbyterian  min- 
ister, the  Eev.  Thomas  Thatcher,  who  in  1G77  pub- 
lished the  first  medical  treatise  Avritten  in  this  country, 
"A  Brief  Guide  to  the  Small-Pox  and  Measles." 
Guides,  whether  brief  or  otherwise,  were  sadly  needed, 
both  of  these  diseases  again  and  again  decimating  both 
colonists  and  Indians,  while  it  raged  among  the  pas- 
sengers of  the  Welco7ne,  from  which  Penu  and  his  con> 
panions  landed  just  two  hundred  years  ago.  Two 
trained  physicians,  Thomas  Wynne  and  Griffith  Owen, 
were  with  him,  and  found  ample  occupation  for  years  in 
fighting  not  only  small-pox  and  measles,  but  yellow 
fever,  "  American  distemper  "  and  the  various  fevers 
and  acute  diseases  consequent  upon  the  hardships  and 
irregularities  of  life  in  a  new  country.  The  common 
people  followed  Indian  prescriptions,  using  golden-rod 


%^>,./#'  ?\^: 


OLD   MEDICAL  HALL,    UNIVERSITY    ui-    PENNSYLVANIA.. 


MEDICAL  EDUCATION.  371 

for  dysentery,  boneset  for  agues  and  consumption,  and 
alder-buds  and  dittany  for  the  blood.  Herbs  and  roots, 
if  they  did  not  cure  at  least  did  not  kill,  and  their  reign 
was  infinitely  better  than  that  of  the  patent  medicine  of 
to-day. 

AVhen  fifty  years  or  more  had  passed,  the  corps  of 
physicians  from  abroad  began  to  be  replaced  by  a  gen- 
eration born  on  American  soil.  The  pioneers  had  been 
English  and  had  studied  in  London  or  Edinburg  or 
Leyden,  as  the  case  might  be.  Dr.  John  Kearsley  and 
Dr.  Thomas  Graeme  were  as  popular  as  Wynne  and 
Owen,  and  even  more  public  spirited.  Dr.  Kearsley  hav- 
ing been  a  member  of  the  Assembly,  and  was  often, 
after  a  telling  speech,  borne  home  on  the  shoulders  of 
the  people.  John  Kearsley,  Jr.,  in  time  filled  his  place 
with  almost  equal  efficiency,  forming  one  of  a  brilliant 
and  memorable  group — Lloyd  Zachary,  Thomas  Cad- 
wallader,  William  Shippen,  Sr.,  Thomas  and  Phineas 
Bond,  John  Redman,  John  Bard.  These  men  encour- 
aged students  and  gave  the  most  thorough  medical  edu- 
cation possible  at  a  time  when  neither  colleges,  nor 
hospitals,  nor  dissecting-rooms  were  in  existence,  but 
the  majority  were  forced  to  complete  their  studies 
abroad.  Two  of  these  students.  Dr.  William  Shippen 
and  Dr.  John  Morgan,  both  natives  of  Philadelphia  and 
both  educated  abroad,  saw  the  absolute  necessity  for 
better  means  of  study  at  home,  and  began  in  1762  a 
course  of  lectures  on  anatomy  and  midwifery  accompa- 
nied by  dissections,  before  a  class  of  ten  students,  the 


373  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


first  systematic  courses  ever  delivered  in  America,  save 
those  given  by  Dr.  Hunter,  at  Newport,  in  1756. 

Dr.  Morgan  gained  notoriety  in  an  unexpected  direc- 
tion, being  the  first  man  in  Philadelphia  to  carry  a  silk 
umbrella.  Dr.  Chanceller  and  the  energetic  Tory,  Par- 
son Duclie,  afterward  kept  him  company,  and,  though 
at  first  every  one  sneered  at  them  as  effeminate  and  full 
of  airs,  they  won  the  day  in  the  end.  Dr.  Morgan  also 
refused  to  compound  or  carry  his  own  medicines,  and 
sent  to  the  apothecary  for  them,  an  innovation  even 
more  startling  and  provoking  more  opposition  than  the 
umbrella.  It  may  be  judged  that  he  was  a  gentleman 
with  very  decided  opinions  and  no  hesitation  in  their 
expression,  and  these  characteristics  were  essential  to 
any  success  in  the  new  movement. 

Dr.  Cadwallader's  lectures  given  in  1750,  after  his  re- 
turn from  the  London  schools,  had  been  of  little  effect 
from  being  unaccompanied  by  demonstrations,  but  Dr. 
Shippen's  marked  the  beginning  of  a  new  era,  and  the 
announcement  of  them  may  still  be  seen  in  the  Pennsyl- 
vania Gazette  for  November  25,  1762  : 

"  Dr.  Shippen's  Anatomical  Lectures  will  begin  to-mor- 
row evening  at  six  o'clock,  in  his  father's  house,  in  Fourth 
Street.  Tickets  for  the  course  to  be  had  of  the  Doctor  at 
five  Pistoles  each,  and  any  gentlemen  who  incline  to  see 
the  subject  prepared  for  the  lectures  and  learn  the  art  of 
Dissecting,  Injections,  &c.,  are  to  pay  five  Pistoles  more." 
Looking  at  this  with  modern  eyes,  it  seems  a  straight- 
forward and  business-like  announcement  of  some  very 
essential  work,  but  the  people  of  Philadelphia  in  1762 


MEDICAL  EDUCATION.  373 

took  a  very  different  view.  Tlie  anatomist  pursued  his 
investigations  at  the  risk  of  his  Ufe,  Mobbing  was 
talked  of  and  feared,  and  the  quiet  house  on  North 
Fourtli  sti-eet,  then  some  distance  out  of  town,  was 
looked  upon  as  the  haunt  of  body-snatchers  and  the 
favorite  abiding  place  of  ghosts.  A  long  back  yard  led  to 
an  alley,  and  here  the  students  stole  in  and  out,  shrouded 
in  their  long  cloaks,  and  not  daring  to  enter  till  dark- 
ness had  settled  down.  With  the  more  sensible  citizens 
the  agitation  soon  passed,  but  the  prejudice  lingered, 
traces  of  it  being  perceptible  even  to  this  day. 

Until  within  a  few  years  a  lonely  building  by  the  stone 
bridge  over  the  Cohocksink,  on  Xorth  Third  street,  was 
considered  a  receptacle  for  dead  bodies  brought  there  by 
the  dreaded  body-snatchers,  "where  their  flesh  was 
boiled  and  their  bones  burnt  down  for  the  use  of  the 
faculty  ;''  and  as  "No  Admittance  "  was  on  the  door, 
and  once  a  fortnight  saw  volumes  of  noisome  and 
penetrating  black  smoke  issuing  from  the  chimneys, 
why  should  any  one  care  to  admit  that  it  was  simply  a 
place  for  boiling  oil  and  making  hartshorn  ?  Certainly 
not  the  boys,  who  went  as  near  as  they  dared,  and  re- 
treated suddenly,  singing : 

"  The  body-snatchers  !  they  have  come, 

And  made  a  snatch  at  me  ; 
It 's  very  hard  them  kind  of  men 

Won't  let  a  body  be  ! 
Don't  go  to  weep  upon  my  grave, 

And  think  that  there  I  '11  be  ; 
They  haven't  left  an  atom  there 

Of  my  anatomy." 


374  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


Three  years  after  Dr.  Shippen's  course  had  been  es- 
tablished Dr.  Morgan  joined  him,  but  their  united  energy 
would  have  failed  had  not  Franklin,  alive  to  the  deep 
importance  of  the  subject,  used  all  his  influence  to  es- 
tablish something  permanent  and  befitting  the  needs  of 
a  growing  city.  "The  College  of  Philadelphia"  had 
been  founded  by  Franklin  and  others  in  1749,  and  char- 
tered by  Thomas  and  Richard  Penn,  but  it  was  not  until 
May  3,  1765,  that  the  board  of  trustees  of  this  institu- 
tion unanimously  elected  Dr.  Morgan  Professor  of  the 
Theory  and  Practice  of  Physic,  thereby  creating  the 
first  medical  professorship  in  America.  A  few  months 
later,  Dr.  Shippen  was  elected  Professor  of  Anatomy 
and  Surgery. 

The  foundation  for  good  work  had  already  been  laid, 
not  only  in  the  courses  of  lectures  already  given,  but  in 
the  organization  of  a  hospital.  As  usual,  Franklin's 
energy  was  the  moving  power,  his  great  popularity  se- 
curing public  contribution,  though  the  needs  of  the  sick 
and  wounded  in  the  growing  colony  had  long  been  re- 
cognized by  the  physicians  into  whose  hands  they  came. 
No  class  of  men  in  the  community  do  as  much  gratui- 
tous work— not  only  gratuitous,  but  unrecognized— and 
there  is  therefore  no  cause  for  wonder  that  their  action 
in  the  beginning  of  the  undertaking  held  the  same  spirit 
which  still  rules  all  true  members  of  the  profession. 

"  At  the  time  of  the  incorporation  of  this  charitable  in- 
stitution (the  Pennsylvania  Hospital),  when,  on  an  appeal 
for  assistance  being  made  to  the  Provincial  Assembly,  one 


UNITEKSITT   HOSPITAL. 


MEDICAL  EDUCATION.  377 

of  the  objections  offered  to  the  measure  vras  that  the  cost 
of  medical  attendance  would  alone  be  sufficient  to  con- 
sume all  the  money  that  could  be  raised,  it  was  met  by  the 
offer  of  Dr.  Zachary  and  the  Bonds  to  attend  the  patients 
gratuitously  for  three  years.  This  became  the  settled  un- 
derstanding with  the  Board  of  Physicians  and  Surgeons, 
nor  have  we  learned  that  the  compact  has  ever  been  an- 
luilled  or  abrogated  during  the  period  of  one  hundred  and 
thirty-one  years  (from  1751  to  the  present  date),  an  in- 
stance of  disinterested  philanthropy  which  has  been  gene- 
rally followed  in  the  charitable  institutions  depending  on 
medical  attendance,  not  only  of  this  city,  but  throughout 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land.'"* 

The  necessity  for  a  library  was  at  once  apparent,  and 
partly  through  private,  partly  public  contribution,  it 
was  founded  one  hundred  and  nineteen  years  ago.  At 
present  it  contains  nearly  thirteen  thousand  volumes, 
accessible,  under  the  necessary  regulations,  to  all  stu- 
dents and  physicians. 

Here,  as  in  the  United  Kingdom,  two  medical  degrees 
were  to  be  conferred — the  Bachelor's  and  the  Doctor's. 
For  the  former  degree  it  was  necessary  that  the  candi- 
date should  exhibit  a  sufficient  acquaintance  with  the 
Latin  tongue  and  with  mathematics  and  philosophy  ;  he 
must  have  a  general  knowledge  of  pharmacy,  and  have 
been  apprenticed  to  a  reputable  practitioner  in  physic. 
He  was  obliged  also  to  attend  one  course  of  clinical  and 
one  of  didactic  lectures,  as  well  as  the  practice  of  the 
Pennsylvania  Hospital  for  one  year.     After  being  pri- 

*  A  History  of  tub  Medical  Department  of  the  Univer- 
sity OF  Pennsylvania.  By  the  late  Joseph  Carson,  M.  D.  Phila- 
delphia, 1869. 


378  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

vately  examined  by  the  faculty,  he  was  then  submitted 
to  a  public  examination  by  the  medical  trustees  and  pro- 
fessors and  such  professors  and  trustees  in  other  depart- 
ments as  chose  to  attend.  To  obtain  the  Doctor's  degree 
it  was  requisite  that  three  years  should  have  passed  since 
the  conferring  of  the  Bachelor's  degree  ;  that  the  candi- 
date should  be  full  twenty-four  years  old,  and  that  he 
should  write  and  publicly  defend  a  thesis  in  the  college. 

A  separate  chair  of  Materia  Medica  and  Botany  was 
created  in  1768,  to  which  Dr.  Adam  Kuhn,  who  had 
studied  these  branches  in  Sweden  under  Linnaeus,  was 
at  once  elected,  holding  the  position  until  he  assumed 
the  Chair  of  Practice,  a  period  of  twenty-one  years. 

Commencement,  however  indifferently  it  may  be  re- 
garded by  the  outer  world,  is  a  season  of  profound  ex- 
citement to  those  more  closely  concerned  ;  but  that  of 
June  1st,  1768,  held  a  deep  significance  to  every  citizen 
who  watched  the  course  of  progress  for  the  colony.  In 
the  old  minutes  of  the  board  of  trustees  may  still  be  read 
the  stately  paragraphs  in  which  this  "  Birthday  of  Medi- 
cal Honors  in  America  "  is  described  in  full,  and  we  can 
see  the  imposing  procession  of  "the  several  Professors 
and  Medical  Candidates  in  their  proper  Habits  proceed- 
ing from  the  Apparatus-Room  to  the  Public  Hall,  where 
a  polite  assembly  of  their  fellow-citizens  were  convened 
to  honor  the  Solemnity." 

"  Solemnity  "  it  undoubtedly  was,  for  what  hopes  and 
fears  had  not  entered  into  this  three  years  of  laborious 
experiment  ?   The  Provost  gave  voice  to  the  magnitude 


MEDICAL  EDUCATION.  379 

of  the  occasion  in  sonorous  Latin,  and  an  oration  in  the 
same  tongue  followed,  lightness  and  gx-ace  being  given 
to  the  rather  ponderous  ceremonies  by  the  first  public 
discussion  :  "  A  Dispute  Whether  the  Retina  or  Tunica 
Choroide  be  the  Immediate  Seat  of  Vision  ?  The  argu- 
ment for  the  retina  was  ingeniously  maintained  by  Mr. 
Cowell ;  the  opposite  side  of  the  question  was  supported 
with  great  acuteness  by  Mr.  Fullerton,  who  contended 
that  the  retina  is  incapable  of  the  office  ascribed  to  it, 
on  account  of  its  being  easily  permeable  to  the  rays  of 
light,  and  that  the  choroid  coat,  by  its  being  opaque,  is 
the  proper  part  for  stopping  the  rays  and  receiving  the 
picture  of  the  object." 

Ten  graduates  received  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of 
Medicine,  not  a  name  among  them  having  failed  to  win 
honor  in  the  after  career,  and  several  of  them  trans- 
mitting both  honor  and  the  same  ability  to  descendants 
who  are  in  active  life  to-day. 

King's  College,  in  New  York,  which  had  in  1769 
given  the  degree  of  B.  M.,  followed  in  the  ensuing  year 
with  that  of  M.  D.,  this  honor  not  being  conferred  by 
the  Philadelphia  college  till  1771 ;  and  thus,  though 
Philadelphia  led  the  way  in  the  award  of  any  medical 
degree,  New  York  can,  of  course,  claim  priority  in 
having  given  the  doctorate. 

No  chair  of  Chemistry  had  at  first  been  founded,  but 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  students  Philadelphia  has  ever 
known  made  the  new  chair  a  matter  of  course.  Though 
but  twenty-four  when  he  received  the  appointment,  Dr. 


380  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

Benjamin  Rush  was  widely  known,  not  only  as  chemist, 
but  from  the  notes  made  by  hun  in  his  seventeenth  year 
on  the  yellow  fever  of  1762— the  only  record  of  that  epi- 
demic in  existence.  He  brought  with  him  from  London, 
where  he  spent  some  time  after  his  graduation  at  the 
Edinburg  School,  a  chemical  apparatus  presented  by 
Thomas  Penn,  the  only  member  of  the  Penn  family  who 
had  any  interest  in  the  intellectual  progress  of  the  city 
they  still  counted  as  theirs.  Probably  so  juvenile  a 
faculty  has  never  before  or  since  met  within  the  walls  of 
any  college.  Rush  was  but  twenty-four  ;  Kuhn,  twenty- 
eight  ;  Shippen,  thirty-three,  and  Morgan,  the  patriarch 
of  the  assembly,  thirty-four. 

"  The  thoughts  of  youth  are  long,  long  thoughts," 
and  these  boyish  jDrofessors,  planning  far  beyond  any 
present  possibility,  lived  to  see  their  dearest  wishes 
fulfilled,  and  the  college,  to  which  the  vigor  and  best 
energy  of  their  early  manhood  had  been  given,  unrivaled 
in  its  accomplishment,  and  sought  by  students  from 
every  state  in  the  Union. 

The  war  of  the  Revolution  proved,  a  serious  check  to 
the  steady  growth  of  the  school.  During  the  occupa- 
tion of  the  city  by  the  British  all  instruction  was  sus- 
pended, and  some  of  the  professors  took  their  places  as 
medical  officers  in  the  army.  In  1779  the  college  charter 
was  abrogated,  its  officers  removed  and  its  property 
transferred  to  a  new  organization,  the  "  University  of 
the  State  of  Pennsylvania,"  which  received  much  more 
extended  educational  privileges  and  larger  endowment. 


;u«miiii" 


HAHNEMANN   COLLEGE   IN    1883. 


MEDICAL  EDUCATION.  383 

For  twelve  years  the  two  schools  gave  independent 
courses  of  histruction,  but  at  the  end  of  that  time  they 
agreed  to  sink  differences  and  unite.  At  the  same  time, 
following  the  precedent  of  the  University  of  Edinburg, 
the  degree  of  B.  M.  was  dropped  and  the  time  of  study 
limited  to  two  courses  in  the  institution,  and  three  years' 
pupilage  under  some  respectable  practitioner. 

Up  to  1810,  Obstetrics  had  no  chair,  but  was  taught 
in  connection  with  anatom}-.  Dr.  T.  C.  James  was  its 
first  regular  professor.  Another  novelty  came  in  at  the 
same  time,  being  applied  to  the  preliminary  examina- 
tion of  the  student,  wliicli  took  place  through  a  screen, 
only  the  dean  knowing  the  applicant's  name.  Tliis 
structure,  known  as  "The  Green  Box,"  and  looked 
upon  with  much  the  same  terror  as  that  inspired  by 
a  hidden  corner  in  the  Inquisition,  was  maintained  for 
ten  years,  and  the  name  still  clings  to  the  dreaded 
ordeal.  Public  examination  also  has  been  abolished, 
and  the  student  is  now  examined  in  private  by  each 
professor. 

An  auxiliary  faculty  of  five  chairs  was  added  in  1865  ; 
Zoology  and  Comparative  Anatomy,  Botany,  Hj'giene, 
Mineralogy  and  Geology,  Medical  Jurisprudence  and 
Toxicology — lectures  on  these  courses  being  given  three 
times  a  week  in  April,  May  and  June. 

A  building  which  became  known  as  Surgeons'  Hall, 
on  Fifth  street  below  Library,  was  the  first  one  erected 
specially  for  the  school,  and  was  used  until  1800,  when 
a  house  on  Ninth  street,  between  Market  and  Chestnut, 


384  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

was  bought,  which  had  been  built  as  a  mansion  for  the 
use  of  the  President  of  the  United  States,  the  corner- 
stone bearing  tlie  inscription : 

"  THIS    CORNER-STONE   WAS    LAID 

ON    THE    10th    day    OF   MAY,    1792. 

THE    STATE    OF    PENNSYLVANIA   OUT    OF   DEBT. 

THOMAS    MIFFLIN,  GOVERNOR." 

Three  generations  came  and  went  before  new  and  larger 
quarters  were  found,  with  ample  space  for  any  future 
growth. 

At  Thirty-sixth  street  and  the  old  Darby  road,  made 
now  by  corporation  stupidity  into  AVoodland  avenue,  a 
name  as  meaningless  as  the  old  one  was  suggestive, 
stands  a  group  of  the  most  beautiful  buildings  in  the 
city — the  medical  hall  and  laboratory,  with  the  hospital 
at  the  back.  The  medical  hall  is  the  largest  building  of 
its  kind  in  the  United  States,  containing  the  museum, 
library,  private  rooms  of  the  professors  and  the  laborato- 
ries of  physiology,  experimental  therapeutics,  histology 
and  pathology,  as  well  as  the  various  lecture-rooms. 
An  area  of  over  seven  thousand  square  feet  is  covered 
by  the  adjacent  buildings,  which  includes  the  two  labora- 
tories of  chemistry,  the  dissecting  room,  and  on  the 
ground  floor  the  dental  operating  room.  Each  of  these 
occupies  an  entire  story,  while  separated  only  by  a  street 
is  the  University  Hospital,  with  its  dispensaries ;  and 
one  square  away  the  Philadelphia  Hospital,  with  its 
thousand  beds. 

No  more  beautiful  group  of  buildings  is  to  be  found 
in  the  United  States.     The  great  trees  of  Harvard  and 


MEDICAL  EDUCATION.  385 

Yale  are  lacking,  and  the  few  set  out  here  and  there 
seem  to  tind  the  struggle  for  mere  Ufe  hard  enough  to 
prevent  any  attempt  at  growth.  But  velvety  turf  slopes 
away  on  the  eastern  side  almost  to  the  busy  river.  The 
city  lies  beyond,  its  many  spires  clear  against  the  sky, 
and  the  student  will  hardly  find  an  alma  mater  more 
worthy  of  honor  or  remembrance. 

Up  to  1879  the  course  of  study  was  not  especially  rigid 
in  its  demands,  and  as  rumored  lack  of  thoroughness 
existed,  the  graded  course  was  instituted,  and  attend- 
ance upon  three  winter  sessions  made  imperative  if  a 
diploma  was  to  be  secured.  Recently  an  exceedingly 
thorough  (optional)  medical  course  of  four  years  has 
been  organized,  meeting  with  considerable  success, 
while  an  entrance  examination  upon  the  main  branches 
of  a  sound  general  education  has  also  been  added.  De- 
tails of  methods  adopted  are  full  of  interest,  but  have 
no  room  in  this  sketch  of  the  general  system.  It  is  suf- 
ficient to  say  of  this  parent  school  of  American  medi- 
cine, that  it  has  always  held  fast  to  that  which  was 
good  ;  has  stood  ready  and  eager  to  respond  to  the  de- 
mand for  higher  medical  education,  and  that,  while 
always  conservative,  it  represents  a  conservatism  which 
has  ever  been  both  enlightened  and  generous. 

The  Jeftersou  Medical  College,  of  Philadelphia,  char- 
tered April  7,  1825,  began  as  a  branch  of  the  Jeftersou 
College,  of  Cannonsburg ;  but  became,  thirteen  years 
later,  a  distinct  corporation.     Its  first  teachings  were 


386  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


ffiven  at  518  Prune,  now  Locust  street,  in  very  humble 
quarters,  the  building  standing  beside  what  was  then 
the  Potters'  Field,  now  Washington  Square,  the  old 
Walnut  Street  Prison  still  further  darkening  its  out- 
look—a small  beginning  for  a  school  which  now  ranks 
as  one  of  the  most  successful  in  the  country,  and  which 
contended  from  its  inception  against  deep-seated  preju- 
dice and  opposition.  Time  has  proved  that  the  found- 
ing of  a  second  school,  so  far  from  injuring  the  first, 
has,  by  the  competition  thus  introduced,  largely  aided 
in  giving  to  Philadelphia  its  reputation  as  a  great  cen- 
tre of  medical  education. 

The  first  sixteen  years  of  the  hfe  of  "  Old  Jefi","  as  it 

is  affectionately  called  by  its  alumni,  were  disturbed  by 

pubUc    opposition,   internal    dissension    and    frequent 

change  in  office.     The  faculty  had  organized  with  Dr. 

George  McClellan,  the  founder  and  ruling  spirit,  and 

Drs.  John  Eberle,  Jacob  Green,  William  P.  C.  Barton, 

Benjamin  Rush  Rhees,  John  Barnes  and  Nathan  R. 

Smith,  Dean  ;  but  one  chair  alone  had  eight  incumbents 

during  the  period  mentioned,  and  uncertainty  was  the 

only  certain  thing  about  the  new  venture.     With  1841 

and  the  resignation  of  Dr.  McClellan,  came  a  "  reor- 

tranization,'"  and  the  assured   financial  success  of  this 

alma  mater  of  some  of  our  most  eminent  practitioners, 

the  new  faculty  having  been  headed  by  Dunglison  and 

represented  by  Mitchell,   MUtter,   Meigs,   Bache  and 

Pancoast. 

The  catalogue  for  the  session  1828-29,  announced  that 


MEDICAL  EDUCATION.  387 

"The  present  session  of  the  lectures  is  held  in  the  very 
elegant  and  appropriately  furnished  new  building  in 
Tenth  street,"  and  there  the  college  remains  to  the  pre- 
sent day.  The  building  has  been  lately  remodeled,  and 
the  city  has  lost  the  picturesque  Grecian  front,  but 
much  space  has  been  gained  by  the  change.  The  new 
building  contains  two  large  lecture  rooms,  each  capable 
of  seating  over  six  hundred  students,  and  well-appointed 
laboratories  of  chemistry,  experimental  therapeutics, 
pathological  histology  and  of  physiology.  In  the  last 
named  ai'e  given  .demonstrations  of  the  principal  facts 
in  experimental  pliysiology  and  histolog3^  A  valuable 
and  rapidly  growing  museum  is  in  the  same  building, 
and  the  dissecting  rooms  are  large  and  convenient, 
being  open  from  Octol)er  to  the  middle  of  June.  West 
of  the  main  building  lies  the  Jefferson  College  Hospital, 
separated  from  it  by  only  a  narrow  passage-way.  Five 
stories  high  and  one  hundred  and  seven  feet  square,  it 
is  so  planned  as  to  easily  accommodate  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  patients,  and  at  tlie  same  time  give 
ample  space  for  both  the  dispensary  department  and  for 
the  ampliitheatre,  where  daily  clinics  are  held.  In  the 
past  year  it  is  stated  that  over  one  thousand  surgical 
operations  have  been  here  performed.  Two  resident 
physicians,  as  well  as  several  clinical  assistants  in 
the  dispensary,  are  appointed  annually  from  the  most 
recent  graduates  of  the  college. 

The  system  of  instruction  is  still  that  which  has  long 
been  popular  throughout  this  country — a  non-graded 


388  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

course  of  two  winter  sessions,  each  of  nearly  six  months' 
duration.  An  optional  three  years'  course  has  lately 
been  introduced,  with  encouraging  results,  but  no  en- 
trance examination  is  required.  Lectures  from  eight 
chairs  are  given,  and,  in  addition  to  Uic  demonstrations 
previously  mentioned,  there  is  required  practical  work  in 
the  chemical  laboratory,  while  the  graduating  class,  in 
sections  of  convenient  size,  practice  in  minor  and  ope- 
rative surgery  and  bandaging,  besides  instruction  in 
physical  diagnosis.  A  spring  course  of  lectures  on  spe- 
cial subjects  is  given,  lasting  nearly  two  months,  and  a 
preliminary  course  of  three  weeks  in  the  fall. 

Active  discussion  still  goes  on  as  to  the  merits  and 
demerits  of  a  non-graded  course,  but  no  student  will 
deny  the  diflficulty  of  obtaining  any  satisfactory  grasp  of 
diagnosis,  therapeutics  and  surgery  with  at  most  only  a 
partial  knowledge  of  anatomy  and  physiology.  Undoubt- 
edly able  physicians  are  graduated  upon  the  non-graded 
plan,  for  there  is  scarcely  one  of  the  prominent  practi- 
tioners of  this  city  whose  studies  were  not  pursued  under 
this  method.  But  it  is  an  equally  undoubted  fact  that 
the  craduate  whose  studies  have  been  followed  in  their 
logical  sequence  through  a  period  of  three  years,  equal 
ability  being  conceded,  is  better  fitted  in  the  end  to  enter 
upon  the  duties  of  his  profession,  and  that  both  he  and 
the  public  at  large  are  the  gainers  by  his  increased  ex- 
penditure of  time  and  money. 

More  than  a  decade  has  passed  since  an  urgent  appeal 
was  made  by  Dr.  Gross,  one  of  the  most  honored  names 


CLINIC    HALL — WOMAN'S    COLLEGE. 


MEDICAL  EDUCATION.  391 

in  medical  science,  for  a  higher  standard  of  education, 

in  an  address  given  before  the  ahimni  association  of  this 

L'ollege,  at  its  first  anniversay,  March  11th,  1871,  in  which 

he  says : 

"  The  time  of  study  should  be  increased  to  four  years, 
embracing  four  courses  of  lectures  of  nine  months  each. 
The  examinations  for  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Medicine 
should  be  conducted  by  a  separate  board,  one  entirely  in- 
dependent of  the  school  in  which  the  student  has  attended 
lectures.  A  higher  standard  of  preliminary  education 
should  be  demanded,  and  no  applicant  should  be  admitted 
unless  he  is  a  man  of  high  culture  and  refinement ;  or, 
in  other  words,  a  thorough  gentleman,  ambitious  to  uphold 
the  honor  and  dignity  of  the  profession." 

Thorougli  l^nowledge  and  training  are  certainly  at  the 
command  of  every  student  who  chooses  Philadelpliia  as 
his  working  ground,  for  within  tlie  limits  of  the  city  are 
thirteen  general  hospitals  and  fourteen  for  the  treatment 
of  special  classes  of  diseases  and  injuries.  In  addition 
to  tliese  are  four  hospitals  for  lying-in  and  the  diseases 
of  women,  and  two  for  tlie  diseases  of  cluldren,  witli 
eiglit  general  and  six  special  dispensaries.  Valuable 
free  clinical  lectures  are  given  in  many  of  these  institu- 
tions, and  nearly  all  are  accessible  to  the  energetic 
student. 

Tlie  mere  mention  of  the  Woman's  Medical  CoUese 
recalls  the  absolute  fury  of  opposition  encountered,  not 
only  here,  but  at  any  point  where  the  medical  education 
of  women  was  suggested.  The  pioneers  in  the  new 
departure  have  lived  to  see  many  dreams  fulfilled.  The 
movement  has  had  the  usual  course,  the  story  of  any  un- 


392  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

fixmiliar  truth,  scieutitic  or  otherwise,  having  been  from 
the  foundation  of  the  world  the  same.  Violent  opposi- 
tion, often  ending  in  death  for  the  propounders  of  the 
obnoxious  fact ;  an  intermediate  stage  of  partial  assent ; 
a  final  one  in  which  the  thing  suddenly  becomes  a  part 
of  the  established  order  of  the  universe,  and  it  is  denied 
tliat  anybody  ever  thought  of  denying.  We  have  not 
gone  as  far  as  the  little  boy  who  was  born  and  reared  in 
a  woman's  hospital  among  women  physicians.  He 
stood  by  a  mantel  in  a  friend's  house,  looking  at  a  plas- 
ter group  representing  a  doctor  and  his  patient.  After 
examining  the  doctor  with  a  puzzled  air,  he  turned  to 
his  mother,  with  a  look  of  scornful  astonishment,  ex- 
claiming: ''Why,  mother!  it's  a  man  !" 

The  educational  bias  in  this  case  was  a  trifle  one- 
sided, though  perhaps  none  too  much  so  when  the 
weight  of  all  opposing  generations  is  taken  into  account. 

The  Woman's  Medical  College  of  Pennsylvania  was 
incorporated  by  the  State  Legislature  on  the  11th  of 
March,  1S50,  under  the  name  of  "The  Female  Medical 
College  of  Pennsylvania,"  and  is  the  first  institution 
ever  chartered  to  grant  to  women  the  title  of  M.D.  The 
first  corporators  of  the  college  were  William  J.  Mullen, 
I)r,  Frederick  A,  Fickhardt,  Dr.  Henry  Gibbons,  Fer- 
dinand J.  Dreer,  Dr.  William  J.  Birkey,  K.  P.  Kane 
and  John  Longstreth. 

The  college  was  opened  for  instruction  the  2d  of  Octo- 
ber, 1850,  and  its  first  commencement  was  held  at  the 
Musical  Fund  Hall ,  December  30th,  1851.     From  that 


MEDICAL  EDUCATION.  393 

clay  to  this  the  friends  of  tlie  institution  have  labored 
for  its  success  with  an  energy  and  zeal  tliat  are  rare  ex- 
cept in  the  annals  of  the  oppressed.  It  suffered  both 
from  the  apatliy  and  the  ridicule  of  the  general  public 
and  the  distrust  of  the  profession  at  large,  and,  within  its 
Avails,  from  attempts  to  intrqduce  heterodox  teachings 
and  from  great  poverty.  One  by  one,  through  tlie  un- 
flagging and  disinterested  labors  of  the  faculty  and  cor- 
porators, these  obstacles  have  been  surmounted.  While 
the  college  lacked  money,  its  courses  of  instruction  were 
given  in  a  most  unpretending  building  in  the  rear  of 
229  Arch  street.  When  contributions  from  generous 
friends  were  received — and  in  its  early  years  the  school 
was  far  from  self-supporting — they  were  applied  only  to 
immediate  practical  needs  ;  and  thus,  though  the  insti- 
tution has  felt  poverty,  it  has  never  been  burdened  by 
debt.  Its  place  is  made,  and  to-day  the  Woman's 
Medical  College  and  its  hospital  number  among  their 
lecturers  and  consultants  some  of  the  most  prominent 
representatives  of  medical  teaching  in  Philadelphia. 

In  1868  the  college  received  a  large  bequest  through 
the  will  of  the  late  Isaac  Barton,  by  the  aid  of  which 
the  present  building,  on  the  corner  of  North  College 
avenue  and  Twent3'-first  street,  was  erected.  The  cor- 
ner-stone was  laid  October  1 ,  1874,  by  T.  Morris  Perot, 
"in  the  name  of  Woman  and  for  Her  Advancement  in 
the  Science  and  Practice  of  Medicine." 

The  college  is  a  handsome  foui'-story  brick  building 
with  a  frontage  of  nearly  two  hundred  feet.    Much  care 


394  A  STLVAN  CITY. 


was  exercised  in  making  its  arrangements  subservient 
to  its  special  end,  and  nmnerous  peculiarities,  such  as 
placing  the  lecture-rooms  upon  one  floor,  the  easy  stairs, 
the  cloak-room  and  toilet  arrangements,  and  the  care- 
fully screened  windows,  mark  it  as  a  building  expressly 
adapted  for  the  use  of  women.  This  college  was  the  first 
•to  introduce  the  optional  three  years'  course,  and  has 
since  made  the  attendance  upon  three  graded  winter 
sessions  a  requisite  for  graduation.  The  order  of  lec- 
tures and  examinations  and  the  conditions  of  gradua- 
tion are  practically  the  same  as  those  in  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania,  except  that  there  are  preliminary  ex- 
aminations in  chemistry,  anatomy  and  physiology  at 
the  end  of  the  first  session  and  that  there  is  at  present 
no  entrance  examination.  A  weekly  "quiz  "  upon  each 
branch  taught  forms  a  part  of  the  regular  instruction 
and  is  free  to  every  student.  In  addition  to  the  didactic 
instruction,  there  are  well-stocked  laboratories  of  chem- 
istry, physiology,  pathology,  histology  and  pharmacy,  in 
each  of  which  practical  work  is  required.  An  impor- 
tant extension  of  the  session  is  found  in  the  spring  term, 
which,  as  the  hst  shows,  is  attended  by  about  seventy- 
five  per  cent  of  the  entire  number  of  students  registered, 
and  which  is  nearly  equally  divided  between  laboratory 
work,  lectures,  and  instruction. 

In  view  of  the  fact  that  the  practice  of  the  graduates 
of  this  school  is  almost  exclusively  confined  to  female 
patients  and  children,  its  clinical  facilities  are  excep- 
tionally   good.     The   Woman's   Hospital,    where   over 


MEDICAL  EDUCATIOK  395 


four  thousand  patients  are  annually  ti-eated,  is  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood  of  the  college,  and  its  dispen- 
sary service  and  free  bedside  instruction  are  daily  opeu 
to  the  advanced  student.  Several  clinics  weekly  are 
held  here  by  members  of  the  staff;  and  clinical  instruc- 
tion in  the  Philadelphia,  Wills  and  Orthopaedic  Hospi- 
tals, as  well  as  in  the  Philadelphia  Lying-in  Charity,  is 
easily  accessible.  Four  graduates  are  annually  ap- 
pointed assistants  to  the  resident  physician  in  the  Wo- 
man's Hospital,  and  the  large  out-practice  of  this 
institution  is  mainly  under  their  charge. 

Xo  notice  of  this  school  would  be  complete  without 
the  mention  of  two  physicians,  to  whom  it  owes  much 
of  its  present  reputation.  I  refer  to  Mrs.  E.  H.  Cleve- 
land and  Ann  Preston,  both  deceased.  To  very  many 
Philadelphians  their  names  are  synonyms  for  profes- 
sional thoroughness  and  zeal,  and  their  lives  give  con- 
clusive proof  that  there  is  no  necessary  incompatibility 
between  the  trained  perceptions  of  the  physician  and 
surgeon  and  of  all  womanly  gentleness  and  grace. 

A  homceopathic  medical  school,  the  Hahnemann  Medi- 
cal College,  is  also  located  in  this  city,  and  bears  the 
highest  reputation  among  institutions  of  its  class. 

In  this  paper  reference  to  medical  teachers  now  in 
active  life  has  been  purposely  avoided.  For  the  facts 
embodied,  and  for  much  valuable  information  which 
might  readily  have  escaped  an  unprofessional  observer, 
the  author  is  indebted  to  Dr.  X.  A.  Kaudolph,  of  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania. 


THE   BETTERING-HOUSE 

AND 

OTHER   CHARITIES. 


ACCORDIXG  to  the  old  geographies,  Philadelphia  used 
to  be  noted  for  "her  markets,  her  clean  streets  and  her 
charities."  The  markets  still  sustain  their  reputation, 
and  let  a  Philadelphiau  go  where  he  must  when  he  dies, 
he  wishes  to  go  home  for  his  dinner.  The  streets  speak 
for  themselves,  and  what  they  say  in  dirt  and  cobble- 
stones is  plain  to  every  one ;  but  only  the  tax-payer 
knows  what  it  costs  to  keep  them  smelling  so  badly  and 
so  out  of  repair. 

The  old  geographies,  however,  knew  little  of  the  chari- 
ties of  the  city  as  they  now  exist.  The  Philadelphiau  is 
fond  of  classification  and  organization.  If  he  has  any- 
thing to  do,  he  likes  to  make  a  little  society  for  that  spe- 
cific purpose,  and  to  have  the  proper  officers  and  a 
suitable  number  of  members.  After  the  organization  is 
completed,  a  constitution  adopted  and  printed  in  a  neat 
little  pamphlet,  he  is  ready  to  go  to  work.  In  this  way  he 
multiplies  societies  for  charitable  as  for  all  other  pur- 
poses. For  each  misery  and  each  misfortune  the  city  has 
its  separate  relief.     It   has   a  home  for  old   men  and 

another  for  old  women,  and  another  still  for  married  old 

397 


398  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


men  and  women,  and  will  yet,  perhaps,  discriminate  be- 
tween the  old  man  who  is  a  bachelor  and  the  one  who  is 
a  widower.  The  woman  who  has  a  baby  to  take  care  of 
does  not  go  to  the  refuge  intended  for  the  one  whose 
child  has  reached  the  traveler's  majority  of  four  years ; 
and  if  she  has  no  child  at  all,  she  repairs  to  a  third  re- 
lief fund.  There  is  a  legacy  left  to  the  city  for  the 
purchase  of  wood  for  widows,  and— as  if  to  prove  that 
no  misfortune  is  without  compensation— preference  is 
given  to  those  whose  poverty  is  due  to  dissolute  hus- 
bands. The  applicant  must  herself  be  sober  and  honest, 
but  the  less  her  departed  lord  shared  in  these  virtues  the 
better  for  her.  The  testator  who  made  this  provision 
went  still  further.  Supposing  in  his  innocence  that  the 
number  of  candidates  properly  qualified  might  some  time 
fail,  and  so  leave  a  balance  unprovided  for,  he  ordered 
that  whatever  was  left  should  be  spent  in  warm  clothing 
for  the  "  oldest  and  barest  "  discharged  from  the  hospi- 
tal and  "  Bettering-House,"  evidently  having  great  com- 
passion for  the  wrecks  in  life.  For  the  opposite  class— 
the  people  who  mean  to  help  themselves— Benjamin 
Franklin  and  John  Scott,  of  Edinburg,  made  provision. 
Each  of  these  energetic  men  left  $5000  for  a  fund  to  be 
used  in  loans  to  young  married  artificers  who  were 
qualified  for  acceptance  by  certain  conditions. 

On  the  twenty-third  of  February  the  city  keeps  the 
birthday  of  John  Scott  by  giving  twelve  dollars'  worth 
of  bread  to  the  needy,  but  never  more  than  two  loaves 
to  one  family. 


PENNSYLVANIA    HOSPITAL   WITHIN    THE   GATES. 


THE  BETTERINO-HOUSE.  401 

This  minute  classification  makes  relief  easy  for  those 
who  have  mastered  the  art  of  tlividing  goats  and  sheep 
at  a  glance,  but  it  comjilicates  the  work  of  the  histo- 
rian. Who  can  tell  the  story  of  the  charities  of  any 
great  city,  and  who  can  do  justice  to  the  energy  and 
the  goodness  that  originates  and  keeps  them  all  at 
work? 

The  founders  of  Philadelphia  made  no  provision  for 
such  a  host  of  charities.  They  fancied  that  in  such  a 
fair  and  fertile  land  no  one  need  suffer  who  could  work, 
and  there  Avould  always  be  help  for  the  sick  and  aged, 
and  support  for  the  young.  Emigrants  themselves, 
they  did  not  foresee  what  emigration  was  to  mean  in 
after  days,  and  certainly  no  one  of  them  expected  pau- 
pers to  come  of  their  own  line. 

Still  it  was  not  very  long  before  organized  help  was 
needed,  but  it  came  in  a  shape  that  tells  what  Old 
Philadelphia  meant  by  "charity."  An  ancient  Quaker 
tailor,  John  Martin,  dying  in  1702,  twenty  years  after 
the  city  was  founded,  left  a  lot  of  ground  between  Third 
and  Fourth  and  Spruce  and  "Walnut  Streets,  to  three  of 
his  friends.  lie  said  nothing  in  his  will  of  the  purpose 
to  Avhich  it  was  to  be  devoted,  but  his  honest  old  cronies 
evidently  understood,  and  they  at  once  built  a  long, 
quaint  house  on  the  Walnut  Street  front,  opening  south- 
ward, however,  on  the  green  field.  The  Monthly  Meet- 
ing took  charge  of  the  place,  and  here  sent  certain  of 
the  poorer  members  who  needed  help.  After  a  time 
they  built  little  one-storied  cottages,  with  a  garret  in 


402  A  SYLVAN  CITY, 

each  steep  roof,  and  with  a  great  chimiic}'  outside. 
These  were  ranged  in  order  on  either  side  of  a  green 
lane  ;  each  had  its  little  garden,  and  here  bloomed  fruit, 
trees  and  flowers.  None  of  the  people  who  lived 
here  were  paupers.  Some  had  a  little  money,  and  all 
worked  who  could.  Two  or  three  old  women  had  little 
schools,  and  another — because  of  the  natural  law  that 
forces  a  river  to  run  by  a  city,  and  builds  a  school  near 
a  confectioner — made  molasses  candy.  A  watchmaker 
hung  some  forlorn  old  turnip  time-pieces  in  one  of  the 
Walnut  Street  windows,  and  the  herbs  raised  in  the 
gardens  had  a  virtue  peculiar  to  themselves. 

As  the  city  grew  around  them  this  small  village  be- 
came greener  and  sweeter.  Little  by  little  high  brick 
houses  arose  around  it ;  the  streets  leading  thither  were 
all  paved,  and  the  city  beat  about  it  as  an  ocean  about 
a  lagoon.  The  only  entrance  was  now  up  a  little  alle}'- 
way,  and  he  who  strayed  in  there  unknowing  what  he 
would  find  must  have  rubbed  his  eyes  and  fancied  him- 
self bewitched.  lie  came  out  of  noise  and  traffic,  from 
bustle  and  business,  and  sviddenly  everything  was  still ; 
the  air  was  filled  with  the  perfume  of  roses,  bees  were 
humming,  old  men  were  sitting  smoking  their  pipes 
under  grape  arbors,  and  old  Quaker  ladies  were  bending 
over  beds  of  sweet  marjoram  and  lavender.  To  awake 
and  find  one's  self  at  the  gates  of  Damascus  was  com- 
monplace to  this. 

If  the  stranger  was  fond  of  Longfellow  he  stood  still, 
and  he  smiled,  because  he  knew  the  place  at  once,  and 
he  would  gently  murmur : 


THE  BETTERING-HOUSE.  403 

"Then  in  the  suburbs  it  stood,  in  the  midst  of  meadows 

and  woodlands  ; 
NoiD  the  city  surrounds  it ;  but  still  with  its  gateway  and 

wicket. 
Meek  in  tlie  midst  of  splendor,  its  humble  walls  seem  to 

echo 
Softly  the  words  of  the  Lord,  '  The  poor  ye  have  always 

with  you.'  " 

Then  would  one  of  these  peaceful  old  men  arise,  and 
he  too  would  smile,  because  he  too  knew,  and  he  would 
show  the  stranger  the  little  vine-covered  house  to  which 
Gabriel  was  taken,  and  then  the  place  where  he  was 
buried.  "  It  w^as  all  true,"  he  said,  "  and  Henry  Long- 
fellow did  but  put  it  into  verse."  The  stranger  found 
it  good  to  be  there.  Few  pilgrimages  rewarded  so  well, 
because  this  asked  nothihg  of  imagination  ;  and  before 
he  left  he  took  an  ivy  leaf  from  the  house — he  bought 
rosemary  for  a  remembrance.  If  he  was  an  artist  he 
made  a  sketch  of  the  place,  and  if  he  was  a  writer  he 
published  a  description  of  it. 

Every  one  who  knew  "  Evangeline "  knew  of  the 
"Old  Quaker  Almshouse"  in  Philadelphia,  and  the 
story  not  only  gave  the  inmates  a  certain  importance  in 
their  own  and  others'  eyes,  but  it  added  many  a  thrifty 
penny  to  their  income.  But  what  proof  this  pretty 
tale  gave  of  an  imaginative  memory  !  These  clear-e3'ed 
old  people  knew  perfectly  well  that  a  fever-stricken  pa- 
liunt  never  was  and  never  would  have  been  taken  into 
their  asylum.  The}-  knew  Evangeline  never  crossed 
their  little  yard  nor  entered  their  wicket,  and  that  there 


404  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

was  no  grave  sacred  to  the  wanderer's  memory  in  their 
inclosure.  They  knew  all  about  the  "  Bettering-House," 
once  up  Spruce  Street  a  few  blocks  away,  and  about  the 
fever  patients  there,  and  the  nuns  who  nursed  them  ;  it 
had  also  once  stood  in  the  midst  of  meadows  ;  but  when 
the  pilgrims  came  looking  for  the  true  Mecca,  behold 
it  was  all  destroyed  and  built  up  as  a  city  in  bricks  and 
cobble-stones  ;  and  then  the  old  Quakers,  leaning  over 
their  wicket,  beckoned  the  seekers  away  to  a  harmless 
delusion. 

If  these  thrifty  people  had  only  known  it,  nothing 
could  have  been  more  quaint  than  their  own  life,  and, 
in  a  way,  it  had  its  own  poetry,  and  needed  little  help 
from  imagination.     There  was  one  woman  who  went  in 
a  child  of  eight  and  stayed  until  she  died  at  eighty-four, 
and  she  must  have  known  about  as  much  of  the  world 
she  left  as  could  be  revealed  to  an  observant  and  caged 
canary.    They  had  their  ghost  and  their  strange  noises, 
and  when  the  last  house  was  torn  down  a  skull  was 
turned  up  from  the  mould,  and  that  explained  much,  if 
it  did  not  tell  its  own  story.    They  had  their  traditions, 
and  as  house  after  house  was  taken  away  and  the  city 
steadily  stole  in,  they  told  stories  of  the  times  when 
"Walnut  Place  "  was  in  its  glory,  and  had  its  aristoc- 
racy and  a  drab-colored  brilliancy.     Then,  at  last,  the 
one  remaining  house  was  torn  down,  the  last  rose-bush 
rooted  up,  and  a  few  exiles,  turning  away,  went  into  a 
greater  solitude  in  going  into  the  crowded,  noisy  town. 

This  idea  of  a  rural  workhouse,  which  was  not  to  be  a 


THE  BETTERING-HOUSE.  407 

mere  almshouse,  runs  through  the  eari}'  history  of  Phila- 
delphia. The  people  had  no  idea  of  maintaining  pau- 
pers, and  when  they  found  it  was  a  possibility  they 
determined  to  make  pauperism  a  disgrace.  In  1718  the 
man  who  chose  to  exist  on  public  charity  had  to  also 
accept  a  penalty,  and,  with  each  member  of  his  family, 
he  was  obliged  to  wear  on  his  right  sleeve  a  badge  made 
of  red  or  blue  cloth,  on  which  was  a  great  "P,"  and 
the  initial  letter  of  the  district  giving  him  relief.  It 
was  not  pleasant  to  be  a  pauper  in  old  Philadelphia. 
To  be  poor  was  another  matter,  and  a  man  could  keep 
his  self-respect  and  his  neighbors'  esteem  if  he  earned 
what  he  ate,  but  it  required  courage  to  take  public  alms. 
But  plenty  of  the  thriftless  had  this  courage  of  their 
laziness,  and  there  were  also  sick  people  and  helpless 
old  men  and  women.  Still  the  citizen  was  taken  care 
of  by  his  neighbors,  and  sick  strangers  were  lodged 
in  empty  houses  ;  but  as  the  population  increased  the 
almshouse  was  needed,  and  so  in  1731  it  was  founded. 
A  lot  of  ground  between  Spruce  and  Pine  and  Third 
and  Fourth,  just  below  the  Quaker  Almshouse,  and  in 
view  of  the  new  church  of  St.  Peter's,  on  Society  Hill, 
was  chosen.  On  Spruce  Street  there  was  a  gateway, 
but  whoever  came  over  the  meadow  from  Third  went  in 
by  an  X  stile.  Here  were  lodged  the  poor,  the  sick  and 
the  insane,  and  the  common  misfortune  of  poverty  put 
them  on  an  equality  even  of  treatment.  After  a  time 
it  was  seen  that  the  sick  must  have  separate  accommo- 
dations, and  the  arrangements  made  for  them — which 


408  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

likely  enough  amounted  to  little  more  than  a  sick  ward, 
taking  in  "accidents,"  and  under  the  charge  of  visiting 
physicians — have  a  historical  interest,  as  they  resulted 
in  the  founding  of  the  first  hospital  in  the  colonies.  It 
afterward  was  removed  to  High  Street,  near  Fifth,  and 
soon  it  appears  to  have  ceased  being  a  municipal  chai'ity. 
Then,  as  constantly  happened  with  public  institutions 
in  those  days,  the  Almshouse  was  no  sooner  well  estab- 
lished than  it  had  to  be  moved.  Penn  had  a  prophetic 
knowledge  of  the  possible  extent  of  his  city,  but  as  it 
grew  the  centre  of  business  was  necessarily  constantly 
pushing  westward,  and  also  southward,  and  so  all  pri- 
vate and  charitable  interests  had  to  yield  and  go  still 
further  out.  The  ground  at  Third  and  Pine  became 
valuable,  and  the  Almshouse  had  to  go  to  the  country. 
It  was  now  under  the  charge  of  a  private  corporation 
"  For  the  Belief  and  Employment  of  the  Poor,"  and  it 
bought  a  large  tract  of  land  on  the  same  line  between 
Spruce  and  Pine,  but  about  Ninth.  Here  was  a  good 
orchard,  fine  forest  trees,  and  plenty  of  ground  for  a 
small  farm.  They  built  a  sufficiently  commodious  house 
in  the  midst  of  the  meadows,  over  which  ran  narrow 
foot-paths,  and  the  place  had  soon  the  air  of  a  public 
institution.  There  was  a  steward  and  a  matron,  out- 
door agents  and  some  resident  physicians.  It  was  really 
a  great  comfort  to  many  of  the  appreciative  people  who 
liked  a  "  Bettering-House"  to  justify  its  title,  and  so 
they  crowded  in,  and  had  the  best  they  could  get. 
There  was  a  main  building  and  two  wings.   In  the  first. 


THE  BETTERmO-HOUSE.  409 

there  was  on  the  lower  floor  the  offices  ;  on  the  second 
the  steward,  or  governor,  and  the  doctors  were  accom- 
modated ;  then  on  the  next  floor  came  the  sick,  and  on 
the  fourth  the  insane,  and  next  the  roof  another  class  of 
sick.  The  paupers  were  in  the  wings — the  women  in 
one,  the  men  in  the  other.  The  children  were  sent  to 
the  "  Yellow  Cottage,"  down  in  that  part  of  the  city 
known  as  ''The  Xeck."  All  seems  to  have  gone 
smoothly  until  about  the  close  of  the  Revolution,  when 
the  corporation  failed,  and  that  historical  body,  "  The 
Guardians  of  the  Poor,"  took  its  place,  and  entered 
upon  its  prerogative  of  making  the  pauper  a  stepping- 
stone  to  higher  things  for  itself. 

From  this  time  the  charities  of  the  city  began  to 
multiply.  After  the  war  there  was  an  undercurrent  of 
misery,  sickness  and  poverty  to  be  relieved.  The  old 
neighborhood  feeling  had  disapjieared  in  the  changes 
and  increase  of  population,  and  after  1800  the  immigra- 
tion of  peojDle  who  had  to  be  taken  care  of  until  they 
found  occupation  became  a  declared  burden.  People 
gave  here  and  there,  and  all  sorts  of  bequests  were  made 
to  the  public  charities.  Some  testators  provided  for  soup, 
and  some  for  bread,  but  more  for  fuel.  It  became  al- 
most as  comfortable  out  of  the  "  Bettering-House  "  as 
in  it,  if  only  the  needy  person  was  ingenious  enough  to 
hold  the  proper  threads  in  his  hand.  His  support  was 
made  easier  by  the  division  of  the  present  cit}-  into 
districts.  The  pauper  who  preferi-ed  out-door  relief  to 
the  conditions  imposed  at  the  "Bettering-House"  got 


410  A  SYLVJJf  CITY. 


his  soup  in  the  city  and  carried  it  home  ;  then  he  took 
a  Uttle  walk  to  Southwark  and  asked  for  his  bread,  or- 
dered his  wood  in  the  Northern  Liberties,  and  probably 
had  a  coat  or  a  wig  given  to  him  as  he  went  home.  The 
only  difficulty  he  had  arose  from  the  constant  increase 
in  his  class,  so  that  by-and-by  the  beggars  interfered 
with  each  otlier,  and  none  of  them  liked  it.  Then  there 
came  another  trouble.  The  mendicants  began  to  educate 
their  patrons,  and  this  was  a  serious  evil,  and  never  in- 
tended by  them.  The  people  who  gave  found  that  no 
one  seemed  any  better  for  it  all.  They  themselves  cer- 
tainly were  not,  because  constant  failures  disheartened 
and  irritated  them.  Give  and  do  what  they  would,  they 
never  got  the  better  of  poverty,  and  their  alms,  their 
legacies,  all  seemed  like  dragon  seed,  and  only  brought 
forth  a  large  and  undesirable  crop  of  greater  evils. 
They  were  forever  multiplying  relief  by  beggars,  and 
finding  the  result  destitution. 

In  1831  came  a  hard,  terrible  winter  of  storms  and 
bitter  cold,  and  in  1832  the  cholera.  During  these  years 
the  charitable  had  to  work,  and  had  to  give,  but  they 
also  thought.  They  were  benevolent,  but  that  did  not 
also  necessitate  their  being  stupid ;  and  our  mothers 
and  fathers  puzzled  over  evils  which  we  have  fancied 
peculiar  to  our  own  day,  and  decided  upon  the  same 
remedies. 

There  was  one  good  woman,  Mrs.  Esther  Moore,  a 
Public  Friend,  who  thought  seriously  on  these  matters. 
She  remembered  the  days  when  each  one  knew  his 


^Mr 


THE  BETTERING-IIOUSE.  413 

neighbor's  needs,  and  she  felt  that  the  thing  to  do  was  to 
restore  neighborhood  relations.  The  rich,  she  thought, 
ought  to  educate  the  poor,  and  teach  them  many  things 
they  did  not  know  in  the  way  of  thrift,  of  industry,  of 
cleanliness  and  independence.  It  was  not  always  the 
fault  of  the  poor  when  they  were  paupers,  and  she  be- 
lieved in  education  as  well  as  regeneration. 

Like  most  women,  she  did  not  theorize  on  the  ques- 
tion that  interested  her,  but  began  to  experiment.  She 
selected  four  blocks  doAvn  town  in  a  neighborhood 
where  the  classes  were  mixed,  and  she  set  to  work 
to  make  the  personal  acquaintance  of  each  one  living 
there.  Her  next  step  was  to  make  the  poor  known 
to  the  better  ofl',  and  to  persuade  the  latter  to  each 
take  a  certain  number  under  their  care.  The  poor 
were  not  only  to  be  helped  to  work,  but  they  were 
to  be  shown  better  and  more  thrifty  Avays.  Their 
homes  were  to  be  made  cleaner  and  more  comfortable  ; 
the  children  were  to  be  sent  to  school.  The  real  charity 
was  to  be  given  in  constant  influence  and  supervision. 
She  persuaded  women  to  help  her  and  men  to  give  her 
money ;  and,  by  good  fortune,  just  at  that  moment  there 
came  to  Philadelphia  a  young  man  named  David  Nas- 
mith,  who  was  from  Glasgow,  and  full  of  Dr.  Chalmers' 
plans  for  remedying  pauperism.  He  had  become  so  in- 
terested in  these  methods,  and  so  fully  persuaded  that 
they  embodied  the  only  cure  for  dependent  poverty, 
that  he  had  given  up  his  business  and  had  set  out  to 
travel  through  the  Christian  world  and  preach  this  new 


414  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

gospel  of  help.  In  Philadelphia  there  was  no  obstacle 
to  immediate  experiment,  and  he  and  Mrs.  Moore  fell 
into  harness  together  with  a  hearty  good  will,  and  took 
the  parts  of  Paul  and  Apollos  with  instant  results. 
They  called  a  meeting  in  a  parlor,  and  seven  were  there, 
four  men  and  three  women.  Then,  in  April,  1831,  they 
resolved  to  call  a  public  meeting  at  the  Franklin  Insti- 
tute and  see  what  would  come  of  it. 

What  did  come  of  it  was  "  The  Union  Benevolent 
Association,"  which  is  still  actively  in  the  field,  and  as 
representative  of  the  merits  and  also  the  failures  in 
Philadelphia  charities  as  any  society  could  be. 

It  was  founded  on  Dr.  Chalmers'  plans,  and  has  very 
much  the  same  system  as  the  younger  "  Society  for  Or- 
ganizing Charities."  It  recognizes  neither  color,  nation 
nor  sect.  It  has  a  board  of  managers,  who  are  men,  and 
a  "  Ladies'  Branch,"  where  are  found  the  visitors  and 
most  active  of  the  workers  in  the  administration  of 
charity.  The  city  south  of  Girard  Avenue  and  north  of 
South  Street,  and  from  river  to  river,  is  divided  into  dis- 
tricts, each  having  its  own  officers  and  visitors — all  wo- 
men. These  report  once  a  month  to  the  ladies'  board 
of  managers,  and  this,  in  turn,  to  the  men's.  In  the 
fifty-one  years  of  its  existence  this  Association  has  given 
over  a  million  of  dollars,  a  hundred  thousand  tons  of 
coal  and  coke  and  a  proportionate  amount  of  clothing,  • 
food  and  every  other  kind  of  help.  This  record  is  the 
more  remarkable  because  the  Association  was  not  orga- 
nized as  an  alms-giving  society.     In  1831  the  condition 


THE  BETTERmG-HOUSE.  415 

of  aftixirs  was  very  similar  to  that  in  existence  now. 
The  poor  were  thriftless  and  numerous  ;  there  were  all 
sorts  of  societies,  working  indeiiendentl}'  and  without 
knowledge  of  each  other's  pensioner.  There  was  then 
no  Central  Bureau,  and  the  impostor  who  was  detected 
by  one  society  lightly  laughed  and  applied  to  another. 
'•'•  The  Union  Benevolent  "  meant  to  be  just  what  the 
"  Organized  Charity "  now  aims  for.  It  wished  to 
unite  the  existing  charities,  and  to  educate  both  the 
alms-giver  and  the  alms-taker  in  the  best  methods  of  de- 
stroying pauperism.  But  the  needs  of  the  poor  have 
been  pressed  on  the  visitors,  and  a  great  portion  of  the 
work  has  been  simply  relief  and  assistance.  In  this 
way  it  has  fallen  into  routine  methods,  and  at  last  be- 
came little  more  than  the  most  influential  and  best 
managed  of  the  alms-giving  societies.  Yet  it  was,  even 
in  those  years,  wise  and  discreet  in  its  charities.  It 
was  impossible  that  it  should  have  had  the  women 
whose  names  run  year  after  year  on  its  records,  and  not 
have  been  of  permanent  value.  It  had  a  store  for  the 
sale  of  clothing,  where  a  monthly  average  of  thirty -four 
women  have  found  constant  employment  in  sewing,  and 
many  a  child  owes  its  nurture  and  education  to  its 
mother's  regular  earnings  there.  It  is  conducted  on  the 
most  quiet  and  non-competitive  system,  yet  last  year  its 
business  amounted  to  nearly  four  thousand  dollars,  and 
over  three  thousand  were  paid  to  sewing  women  and  em- 
ployes. In  the  way  of  practical  charity  only  the  poor 
can  tell  the  tale.     IIow  many  hundreds  of  sick  have 


416  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

been  supported,  how  many  dead  buried,  how  many  chil- 
dren provided  for,  not  even  the  records  show.  Here 
was  the  fatherless  boy  sent  to  Girard  College,  and  there 
the  girl  given  a  home  in  the  country.  If  the  house  of  a 
seamstress  was  too  forlorn  to  attract  customers,  she  was 
told  to  scrub  and  clean,  and  then  a  little  cheap  matting, 
a  few  whole  chairs,  transformed  the  place  ;  patrons  were 
interested,  and  the  woman's  name  vanished  from  the 
charity  lists.  Boys  were  set  up  in  business  as  boot- 
blacks or  newspaper  boys.  It  only  cost  a  little  money 
to  get  the  start,  and  he  made  "the  plant,"  and  then 
there  was  bread  at  home  even  if  there  was  no  butter. 

One  of  the  best  known  and  characteristic  of  this  Asso- 
ciation's charities  is  the  "stove."  What  visitor  of  the 
poor  does  not  know  the  "  U.  B. "  stove,  and  what  second- 
hand dealer  would  dare  to  sell  one  !  He  could  take  a 
diamond  from  a  crown  and  manage  to  palm  it  off  and 
get  his  price  for  it,  but  the  comical  little  stove  that  was 
invented  for  the  society  when  anthracite  coal  first  came 
into  use,  and  which  will  bake  and  boil  and  make  a 
room  warm  and  cheery,  has  a  personality  that  cannot 
be  disguised,  and  none  of  the  people  to  whom  they  are 
loaned  would  dare  to  sell  them,  even  if  any  would  dare 
to  buy  one.  Two  hundred  and  twenty-four  of  these 
were  loaned  last  year  from  the  fall  to  tlie  spring. 

The  men  who  make  up  the  Executive  Board,  and 
who  are  always  well-known  citizens,  have  brought  the 
Association  to  the  front  on  many  questions  pertinent 
to  its  objects.     It  has  petitioned  the   Legislature   on 


THE  BETTERINO-nOUSE. 


417 


matters  of  temperance  and  the  license  laws,  and  on  false 
weio-hts.  It  long  ago  denounced  the  misuse  of  public 
funds  by  the  Guardians  of  the  Poor,  and  has  instructed 
both  the  employer  and  his  working  people  on  various 


THE    "  U.    B."    STOVE. 

moral  and  legal  questions.  It  has  kept  in  its  office  a 
register  for  children  :  and  down  in  the  cellar  it  has— as 
a  prudent  Josei)h  in  charge  of  the  people  should— stored 
vegetables  and  flour  against  the  days  of  winter  famine 
and  high  prices.     When  the  snow  comes,  the  man  wlio 


418  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

wants  to  earn  an  honest,  if  a  cold  penny,  goes  there 
and  borrows  one  of  its  snow-shovels,  and  many  a  ped- 
dler has  had  the  loan  of  money  enough  to  start  in 
business  with  a  woU-stocked  basket ;  while  the  woman 
wlio  had  sewing,  but  no  needle  or  cotton,  went  and  had 
her  wants  supplied.  These  practical  little  charities  in 
the  waj'  of  housekeeping  for  the  poor  are  the  result  of  a 
long  experience,  and  the  Association,  fighting  poverty 
for  so  many  years,  has  learned  that  the  summer  ought 
to  provide  for  the  winter,  and  the  day  of  plenty  for 
famine.  That  it  is  one  of  the  institutions  in  which 
Philadelphians  have  confidence  is  proved  by  the  fact 
that  they  are  apt  to  remember  it  in  their  wills. 

About  the  time  the  Union  Benevolent  was  formed, 
and  its  founders  were  discussing  remedies  for  pauper- 
ism, the  Guardians  of  the  Poor,  who  were  forced  to 
accept  the  pauper  as  he  was,  were  as  busy  determining 
how  they  could  take  better  care  of  him.  The  Bettering- 
House,  on  Spruce  street,  had  had  many  experiences, 
and  the  "cholera  year"  had  proved  its  want  of  ca- 
pacity. The  pestilence  had  I'aged  thei'e  in  a  terrific 
manner,  and  coffins  were  kept  piled  in  the  yard  I'eady 
for  use.  The  man  who  died  after  breakfast  was  buried 
before  dinner,  and  sometimes  there  was  not  a  nurse  to 
be  had.  The  Sisters  of  Charity  came  in  and  took  charge 
for  some  weeks,  and  by  them  many  a  poor  heretic  was 
baptized  before  he  died,  and  so  his  road  through  pur- 
gatorj'  made  more  easy.  The  distress  and  loss  of 
occupation  resulting  from  this  pestilence  brought  great 


k;-w  ■:a^!^«S-^t-\ ill 


^§-^^':JZ^^: 


THE  BETTERIXG-noUSE.  431 

numbers  to  the  house,  and  the  wards  were  crowded. 
Little  by  little  the  ground  had  been  sold,  so  that  the 
farm  was  gone,  the  forest  trees  cut  down,  and  only  the 
garden  left.  The  people  who  built  on  the  streets  which 
had  succeeded  the  foot-paths  over  the  meadows  grum- 
bled because  of  their  pauper  neighbors,  and  the  Guar- 
dians at  last  determined  to  build  and  move. 

This  new  enterprise  was,  however,  to  be  tinal ;  and  so, 
to  secure  a  site  beyond  city  encroachments,  they  se- 
lected a  large  lot  of  ground  across  the  Schuylkill  River, 
and  on  its  banks,  and  there  they  built  the  ideal  Alms- 
house. It  was  to  be  a  great  credit  to  the  city,  and  the 
pauper  must  have  regarded  it  with  admiring  interest. 
Here  was  something  that  wisely  accepted  things  as  they 
were.  The  pauper  was  not  to  be  abolished,  but  made 
comfortable,  and  this  was  what  ought  to  be  expected  of 
a  paternal  government,  and  they  probably  apjjroved  of 
their  new  quarters  when  they  wex'e  moved  over,  in  the 
summer  of  1835,  four  thousand  in  number,  in  wagons, 
in  furniture  cars,  and  all  sorts  of  vehicles.  It  must  have 
been  a  motley  procession,  and  no  "  Centennial  "  is  likelj- 
to  reproduce  it.  The  insane  were  tied  and  chained  ; 
the  women  were  stowed  away  as  well  as  possible,  and 
many  a  sturdy  fellow  must  have  tramped  over  on  foot, 
reasonably  eager  to  see  his  new  house.  They  crossed 
the  river  by  the  South  Street  ferry,  the  insane  leading 
the  way  ;  and,  except  Charon,  Avhat  boatman  ever  car- 
ried such  a  crew  !  Once  in  "  Blockley  "  they  were 
housed  in  the  spacious  wards,  and  the  work  of  regen- 


422  A  STLVAI^  CITY. 

ei'ation  soon  began.  The  officials  in  the  Almshouse 
confronted  the  administration  of  pauperism,  and  there 
was  little  theory  about  this.  It  was  all  practice,  and 
some  experiment.  There  was  nothing  easy  but  the 
admission  of  the  inmates.  Inside  the  stone  walls 
was  a  little  city  filled  with  degradation,  with  distress, 
with  all  that  was  helpless  and  forlorn.  Over  it  all  was 
the  governor,  or  "  steward  ;"  and  upon  his  wisdom  and 
faithfulness  the  wiiole  administration  depended.  The 
condition  of  most  public  institutions  and  asylums  -was 
at  this  time  simply  frightfiU.  Elizabeth  Fry  and  Doro- 
thea Dix  had  drawn  public  attention  in  England  and 
the  United  States  to  the  hardships  and  abuses  existing 
in  svich  institutions,  but  the  pressure  of  public  opinion 
penetrated  few  of  the  walls,  and  everything  depended 
on  the  character  of  the  men  in  actual  charge.  The 
great  misfortune  lay,  of  course,  in  the  fact  that  the 
abuses,  neglects  and  tyrannies  naturally  fell  on  the  most 
helpless.  There  was  little  expectation  of  curing  the  in- 
sane, and  if  they  could  be  kept  quiet  and  out  of  the 
way  it  was  well  enough.  If  they  were  too  violent,  a 
straight-jacket,  a  chain,  a  lancet  or  a  shower-bath  sub- 
dued them,  and  visitors  were  sometimes  taken  to  the 
cells  to  see  them  sitting  alone,  beating  the  floor,  tearing 
their  clothes,  or  waiting  in  wicked,  sullen  insubordina- 
tion for  a  chance  for  revenge.  If  they  recovered  their 
senses  it  was  in  spite  of  their  treatment,  and  never  be- 
cause of  it.  In  the  Spruce  Street  "  Bettering-House  " 
women  who  cither  could  not  or  would  not  work  were 


THE  BETTERING-HOUSE. 


423 


put  on  the  treadmill,  and  if  one  was  too  obstinate  or  too 
weak  to  raise  her  foot  in  time  to  take  each  step  as  it 
came  down  she  was  struck  and  bruised  on  the  instep  ; 
but  that  was  her  own  lookout. 
In  the  old  house  many  evils  existed  in  consequence  of 


_S 


\-m 
v^'^ 


IN   THE   SLUMS. 

the  crowded,  inconvenient  condition  of  affairs,  but  this 
new  one  gave  room  for  much  reform.  And  it  was  made. 
The  men  were  set  to  work  in  the  quarries  and  on  the 
farm,  and  the  women  knitted  stockings  for  the  house 
and  sewed.     The  treadmill  was  not  allowed  to  emigrate 


424  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


from  Spruce  Street,  and  the  shower-bath  was  aboUshed, 
except  when  it  was  ordered  by  the  doctors,  who  had 
fiiith  in  it  as  a  curative  remedy.  The  well  were  no 
longer  bled  nor  cupped,  the  insane  were  visited,  and 
every  little  while  some  one  who  showed  gleams  of  rea- 
son would  be  brought  from  the  cells  into  the  "Main 
Building,"  clothed  and  set  at  some  congenial  work,  and 
the  experiment  often  ended  in  the  final  discharge  of  the 
cured  patient.  There  was  great  faith  at  that  time,  in 
this  institution,  in  the  beneficial  effect  of  interesting 
employment  and  the  absence  of  irritating  surroundings ; 
and  so  it  happened  more  than  once  that  men  who  had 
been  chained  as  violent  maniacs  became  excellent  gar- 
deners, industrious  and  trustworthy  mechanics.  Women 
who  had  been  dressed  in  one  garment  made  of  coffee- 
sacks,  because  they  tore  their  clothes  up,  and  who 
cursed  every  one  who  came  near  them,  were  converted 
into  seamstresses  and  even  nurses  to  tenderly-nurtured 
children.  There  was  a  new  classification  in  the  wards 
in  many  ways,  and  the  whole  administration  was  clean, 
honest  and  intelligent. 

The  Guardians  found  all  of  this  exceedingly  interest- 
ing. It  was  true  they  did  little  of  the  work,  but  it 
needed  constant  supervision,  and  so  once  a  week  they 
came  driving  over  in  hired  carriages  to  attend  to  that 
department.  Naturally  enough  the  long  ride  and  river 
air  gave  them  appetites,  and  this  was  the  time  to  test 
the  Philadelphia  markets  !  In  1852  it  cost  $1.04  per 
week  to  feed  a  Philadelphia  pauper,  but  where  are  the 


THE  BETTERING-HOUSE.  425 

statistics  to  show  what  it  cost  fifteen  years  before  to 
feed  their  Guardians  ?  They  tried  to  save  the  feeUngs 
of  taxpayers  by  having  a  hothouse,  wliere  fruits  and 
flowers  could  be  raised  without  appearing  as  an  item  in 
the  bills,  but  there  were  other  expenses  which,  they 
felt,  were  made  too  conspicuous.  They  could  see  no 
reason  why  wine  should  not  be  put  among  "Medical 
Supplies;"  and  as  mutton  can  be  converted  into  veni- 
son, they  thought  the  process  should  be  reversed.  It 
annoyed  the  hungry  supervisors  to  have  a  spade  called 
a  spade  in  the  steward's  account,  and  whenever  this  was 
printed  their  opinion  of  his  administration  went  down 
to  zero.  They  sometimes  had  to  explain  to  taxpayers 
about  the  time  required  for  the  visits  and  the  distance, 
and  give  no  end  of  other  good  reasons  for  their  dinners 
and  other  expenses,  and  they  did  not  like  it  at  all  when 
the  taxpayer  at  last  rebelled,  and  the  cakes  and  ale  and 
early  strawberries  all  came  to  an  end  and  there  was  no 
more  feasting.  It  became  more  difficult  to  get  a  quorum, 
and  when  the  managers  met  around  a  table  decorated 
with  paper,  pens  and  ink,  instead  of  good  old  Port  and 
lobsters,  what  wonder  they  had  their  own  feelings  to- 
ward any  one  who  would  tell  the  public  how  he  spent 
its  money,  and  how  deeply  they  came  to  feel  that  he 
was  not  the  man  for  the  place  ! 

This  story  of  extravagance  and  waste  has  run  on 
year  after  year,  sometimes  checked  for  a  little  while, 
and  then  worse  than  before,  until  now  it  has  climaxed 
in  an  exposure  that  has  proved  that  it  has  not  been  the 


426  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

pauper  who  has  been  corrupted  and  ruined  by  pubUc 
charity,  but  the  men  who  were  intrusted  with  its 
administration. 

The  moral  of  these  disclosures  is  very  simple.  It  is 
not  that  the  public  officials  should  be  honest  and  content 
with  their  legitimate  earnings,  but  more  than  this — that 
the  voting  taxpayer  should  look  after  his  public  house- 
keeping, and  not  be  quite  so  much  afraid  to  ask  his  em- 
ployes for  bills  and  receipts.  lie  trusts  them  to  spend  his 
money,  but  until  he  is  forced  to  do  so  he  has  great  deli- 
cacy in  asking  how  they  spent  it.  If  his  wife  conducted 
his  home  on  this  principle,  he  would  have  a  very  de- 
cided opinion  of  her  capacity,  and  she — she  would  prob- 
ably long  for  the  repose  of  the  river  Bagdad. 

The  story  of  the  "  Bettering-House"  tells  the  story  of 
much  municipal  charity  in  Philadelphia.  There  has 
been  nothing  niggardly  in  the  appropriations,  and  the 
city  has  given  to  its  poor  a  spacious,  good  home,  and  a 
liberal  income  for  its  support.  The  result  has  been  the 
encouragement  of  pauperism,  tlie  defrauding  of  the 
poor,  and  the  coi-ruption  of  public  officers.  Whether 
the  day  will  come  when  the  Almshouse  will  be  abolished, 
and  Homes  for  the  helpless,  with  Hospitals  for  the  sick, 
take  its  place,  is  beyond  prophecy,  but  one  of  the 
healthful  signs  of  progress  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  work 
of  the  "Society  for  Organizing  Charity"  has  enabled 
the  city  to  abolish  out-relief,  and  so  save  thousands  of 
dollars  annually. 

One  of  the  first  of  the  Homes  in  Philadelphia — cer- 


PICTUKESQUE   PAUPEKS. 


THE  BETTERING-HOUSE.  429 

tainly  one  of  the  most  independent  and  magnificent — 
was  founded  in  1772  hy  the  will  of  Dr.  John  Kearsley, 
and  called  by  him  "Christ  Church  Hospital."  No  one 
can  know  better  than  the  physician  how  forlorn  is  the 
position  of  a  dependent,  sick,  or  aged  Protestant  woman. 
She  has  no  convent  to  which  she  can  go  for  refuge,  and 
she  too  often  finds  her  claims  on  kindred  or  gratitude 
but  ropes  of  sand.  She  is  not  always  the  kind  of  per- 
son who  adds  to  the  happiness  or  comfort  of  a  family. 
She  is  apt  to  be  queer,  and  has  to  be  "considered ;"  she 
is  little  help,  and  plays  the  part  of  a  fifth-wheel  among 
active  people.  Still  she  is  not  the  happier  because  she 
is  useless,  but  she  is  the  more  to  be  pitied.  Dr.  Kears- 
ley no  doubt  had  many  such  anchorless  wrecks  among 
his  patients.  He  was  an  Englishman  by  birth,  and  came 
to  Philadelphia  in  1711.  He  was  always  a  busy  and 
conspicuous  character ;  he  practiced  medicine  ;  he  inter- 
ested himself  in  architecture — and  whoever  Avould  see 
what  he  did  can  look  at  Christ  Church  and  Indepen- 
dence Hall — and  he  was  a  member  of  the  House  of  As- 
sembly and  an  enthusiastic  chux-chman.  The  people 
liked  his  speeches  so  well  that  they  would  catch  him  up 
as  he  came  out  of  the  Assembly  and  carry  him  home  on 
their  shoulders,  and  the  churchmen  presented  him  with 
a  piece  of  plate  worth  fifty  pounds  to  testify  to  their 
appreciation  of  the  energy  with  which  he  had,  against 
discouragement  of  all  kinds,  persevered  until  Christ 
Church  was  rebuilt.  The  vestry  had  found  it  easy  to 
resolve  that  the  little  church  should  be  enlarged  and  a 


430  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

foundation  for  a  steeple  laid,  but  they  had  no  money, 
nor  did  they  take  steps  to  get  any.  Then  Dr.  Kcarsley 
oftered  to  advance  what  was  needed  until  subscriptions 
could  be  raised,  and  thus  enabled  them  to  begin  the 
work  at  once.  In  after  years  he  opened  the  subscrip- 
tion for  the  chimes,  and  was  always  the  friend  in  need 
where  the  church  was  concerned.  When  he  died,  he 
left  his  property  to  Christ  and  St.  Peter's  Churches  for 
the  maintenance  of  at  least  "  ten  poor  and  distressed 
women  of  the  communion  of  the  Church  of  England," 
Dr.  Kearsley  died  in  1772,  and  in  1789  Joseph  Dobbins 
gave  to  the  same  charity  five  hundred  pounds  and  two 
lots  of  ground  ;  and  then  at  his  death,  in  1804,  increased 
the  legacy  by  devising  to  its  hospital  all  the  remainder 
of  his  property. 

The  two  benefactors  probably  fancied  the  valuable 
portion  of  their  legacies  was  the  money  portion,  but 
the  Doctor's  land  lay  in  such  locations  as  Front  and 
Market,  and  Arch  above  Third,  and  the  ground  called 
"  Lot  No.  4  from  Schuylkill  "  by  Mr.  Dobbins,  was  be- 
tween Eighteenth  and  Nineteenth  and  Spruce  and  Pine. 
Such  property  came  to  be  a  splendid  bequest,  and  the 
"Lot  No.  4"  alone,  after  lying  idle  and  forlorn  for 
seventy  years,  sold  for  one  hundred  and  eighty  thou- 
sand dollars.  The  revenues  have  been  managed  by 
prudent  business  men,  and  the  hospital  has  always  kept 
within  its  means,  has  never  been  in  debt,  and  never  had 
to  solicit  assistance.  In  its  early  days  it  occupied  a 
small  two-story  house  on  the  Arch  street  property,  and 


THE  BETTEBING-HOUSE.  431 

accommodated  eight  ladies,  who  knitted  and  sewed,  and 
on  Sunday  went  down  the  street  to  Christ  Church  to 
service,  and  on  week-da3's  took  little  runs  out  to  see 
their  friends.  Of  course  they  were  thankful,  and  of 
course  they  grumbled  and  gave  suflBcient  occupation  to 
the  three  vestrymen  from  each  churcli  who  were  in 
charge  of  the  charity.  Then  there  came  more  appli- 
cants, and  the  house  was  torn  down  and  a  larger  one 
built.  In  time  this  also  became  too  small,  and  so  a 
still  more  spacious  building  was  erected  on  the  same 
lot,  but  fronting  on  Cherry  Street.  Here  forty  old  ladies 
could  be  accommodated,  but  sometimes  two  had  to  share 
a  room,  and  the  matron,  as  referee,  seems  sometimes 
to  have  had  reason  to  regret  the  arrangement. 

B}'  185G  the  hospital  had  an  annual  income  of  over 
nineteen  thousand  dollars,  and  so  the  managers  deter- 
mined to  build  again.  They  bought  a  farm  of  over  two 
hundred  acres  of  Jesse  George,  near  the  West  Park,  and 
built  the  present  home.  It  would  accommodate  one  hun- 
dred inmates,  but  the  income,  which  has  suffered  from 
shrinkage  of  values,  supports  only  forty  at  present.  It 
might  be  suggested  to  good  churchmen — for  with  this 
work  the  women  have  had  nothing  to  do  except  as  pen- 
sioners— that  every  dollar  given  here  would  go  directly 
to  the  support  of  additional  inmates,  as  all  the  running 
expenses  are  already  secured. 

One  of  the  most  pleasant  features  in  this  place  is  the 
prevalence  of  family  life.  It  has  happened  that  the 
managers  have  several  times  been  able  to  take  mothers 


432  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

and  daughters,  sisters  and  other  near  relations  ;  so  that 
Uttle  homes  are  set  all  through  the  great  building,  and 
there  is  a  completeness  and  content  preserved  that  is 
not  possible  when  charity  breaks  all  family  ties.  These 
beneficiaries  have  many  comforts  not  common  in  all  such 
institutions,  some  of  which  they  owe  to  ther  rux-al  situa- 
tion, and  others  to  the  thouglitfuluess  of  the  managers. 
The  leading  magazines  are  taken,  there  are  daily  papers 
and  a  library.  On  Sunday  and  week-days  service  is 
held  in  the  beautiful  chapel,  which  is  in  one  wing,  and 
so  arranged  that  any  one  too  feeble  to  go  down 
stairs  can  enter  the  gallery  from  the  second  floor 
and  worship  there.  The  whole  building  is  fire-proof. 
They  have  a  farmer,  and  fresh  vegetables,  cows  and 
chickens  ;  and  many  a  worse  lot  falls  to  poverty-stricken 
human  beings  than  that  of  being  "  a  poor  and  dis- 
tressed woman  of  the  communion  of  the  Church  of 
England,"  if  this  condition  leads  to  a  home  at  Christ 
Church  Hospital.  In  spite  of  all  their  worries,  the  good 
ladies,  who,  as  Protestants,  cannot  pray  for  the  repose 
of  the  souls  of  their  two  benefactors,  must  yet  follow 
them  with  many  tranquil,  happy  thoughts. 

This,  as  we  have  said,  is  a  man's  charity,  founded  and 
governed  by  men,  and  it  justifies  their  best  opinion  of 
their  own  management. 

The  "Home  for  Incurables  "  belongs  to  women,  and 
although  they  have  an  "Advisory  Board"  of  men, 
the  members  of  it  consider  a  better  title  would  be 
an    "Indorsing    Board,"   as    all    they   do  is  to  obey 


c 
o 

H 


THE  BETTERIXG-nOUSE.  435 

orders.  It  was  founded  on  a  legacy  of  one  little  gold 
dollar.  There  was  in  West  Philadelphia  a  j'oung 
girl  who  had  been  confined  to  her  bed  from  early 
childhood,  and  she,  often  thinking  of  those  who  suffered 
as  much  but  were  not  cared  for  as  she  was,  longed  to 
make  them  as  comfortable.  She  used  to  talk  to  her 
mother  about  a  home  for  incurables,  and  one  day  when 
a  gold  dollar  was  given  her  she  said  it  could  be  put 
away  as  the  foundation  for  a  fund  for  such  a  home.  It 
was  a  light  enough  fancy  on  her  part,  but  it  became  an 
inspiration.  After  the  girl  died  the  money  was  remem- 
bered, and  her  mother  and  her  friends  determined  to  see 
her  wish  carried  out.  It  was  easy  enough  to  arouse  in- 
terest, as  every  one  knew  the  need  of  such  an  institu- 
tion. In  the  hospitals  established  for  curative  purposes 
there  was  no  room  for  patients  pronounced  beyond  help, 
and  even  at  the  Almshouse  the  transient  pauper  was 
preferred  to  the  permanent  patient.  Every  one  knew 
of  helpless  sick  who  were  suffering  in  poverty,  or  sup- 
ported by  hard  exertion  or  grudging  charity.  There  was 
need  enough  that  the  little  gold  dollar  should  be  put  to 
use.  The  women  who  were  interested  went  to  work 
determined  to  succeed.  They  held  fairs  and  solicited 
subscriptions.  Those  of  them  who  could,  gave  money, 
and  all  worked ;  and  in  1877  they  had  raised  enough 
money  to  authorize  them  in  opening  a  home  out  on  the 
Darby  Road. 

At  the  end  of  the  year  they  had  sixteen  patients  and 
a  lengthening  list  of  applicants.     There  were  people  in 


436  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

all  stages  of  disease,  and  with  every  shape  of  it,  asking 
for  admission,  but  the  managers  had  not  only  to  limit 
the  number  admitted,  but  they  had  to  exclude  all 
diseases  not  easily  managed  in  their  building.  A  hos- 
pital for  such  uses  demands  peculiar  accommodations 
and  appliances,  and  the  next  step  was  to  build  one.  So, 
then,  this  was  accomplished.  Men  gave  money  to  buy 
ground  and  women  endowed  beds,  and  the  managers 
took  care  that  as  their  mortar  hardened  no  debt  hardened 
with  it.  They  had  not  money  enough  to  build  as  large 
a  house  as  they  needed,  but  the  plans  provided  for  ex- 
tensions, and  there  is  ground  enough.  The  house  really 
looks  like  a  home,  and  a  very  beautiful  one.  It  is  well 
arranged,  and  no  detail  of  comfort  or  convenience  has 
been  neglected,  and  the  result  would  have  delighted  and 
astonished  the  owner  of  the  little  gold  dollar. 

Because  the  building  is  yet  too  small,  and  the  man- 
agers are  not  willing  to  hinder  their  work  by  a  debt, 
they  have  still  to  turn  away  hundreds  of  applicants. 
They  have  no  wards  for  men  nor  children,  and  can  take 
no  one  suffering  from  consumption,  epilepsy  or  cancer. 
The  only  vacancies  are  made  by  death. 

These  are  a  few  of  the  charities  of  Philadelphia.  They 
represent  municipal  relief  and  its  abuses  ;  out-door  re- 
lief and  its  methods ;  a  church  home  and  a  hospital. 
Each  came  because  it  was  needed,  and  each  deserves 
attention. 


THE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


"  Upon  his  entree  into  Boston  society  the  stranger  is 
met  with  the  query,  impUed  if  not  spoken,  '  What  do 
you  know  ?' — into  New  York  society  with,  '  What  are 
you  worth  ?' — and  into  Philadelphia  society  with,  '  Who 
was  your  grandfather  ?'  "  The  journalist  who  let  slip 
from  his  pen  this  familiar  criticism,  epigrammatic  if  not 
axiomatic,  was  something  of  a  cosmopolitan  ;  and  that 
fine  old  master  of  sententious  Saxon,  slightly  American- 
ized, Dr.  Holmes,  has  indulged  in  a  bit  of  witticism 
equally  as  pungent  in  referring  to  the  Quaker  City  as 
"the  genealogical  centre  of  the  United  States." 

Those  Philadelphians  "to  the  manner  born"  who 
claim  the  ancestral  distinguishment  for  the  placid 
burgh  of  their  nativity  by  way  of  explanation  and 
corroboration,  cite  the  fact  that,  while  the  intrepid 
Puritans  who  landed  from  the  3[aijfloimr  at  Plymouth 
Rock  had  come  from  the  lowlier  walks  of  life,  and  that 
while  the  stux'dy  Teutons  who,  under  the  guidance  of 
the  explorer  Hudson,  disembarked  upon  Manhattan 
Island,  had  also  occupied  humble  estates  in  the  father- 
land, yet  the  Quaker  compeers  of  the  founder  of  Penn- 
sylvania, who  in  16S2  landed  upon  these  sylvan  shores 
from  the  Welcome^  comprised  many  men  of  high  position 

137 


438 


A  8YLVAJS'  CITY. 


\  »-, 


if 


AOEO  3>M-'l^i 


(1)    THE   SIMS   ARMS,    FROM   A   TOMBSTONE   IN   ST.    PETER'S 
CHURCHYARD. 


THE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


439 


(2)    LLOTD-STANLET. 


440 


A  STLVAIf  CITY. 


—descendants  of  English  and  Scottish  sovereigns,  rela- 
tives of  British  nobles,  representatives  of  the  landed 
gentry  of  the  Mother  Isle,  collegians  and  men  of  letters. 


(3)    GR^ME. 

Just  how  many  of  these  distinguished  emigrants  had 
sought  America's  broad  shores  to  escape  hanging,  local 
chronicles  magnanimously  refuse  to  disclose.  That, 
however,  one  of  the  earl}'  members  oi  the  Provincial 
Council  had  left  England  because  of  the  provoking  ex- 
istence of  a  superfluity  of  wives,  and  that  the  daughter 
of  another  early  councillor — who  was  also  at  one  time 
chief  magistrate  of  the  province — married  a  pirate,  can- 
not be  authoritatively  denied. 

A  distinctive  element  of  that  phase  of  society  popu- 
larly known  as  "aristocracy,"  whether  monarchial  or 
democratic,  is  heraldry,  which,  in  encyclopedical  Ian- 


THE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


441 


guage,  is  defined  as  "the  art  of  arranging  and  explain- 
ing in  proper  terms  all  that  relates  or  appertains  to  the 
bearing  of  arms,  crests,  badges,  quarterings  and  other 
hereditary  marks  of  honor."  As  a  rule,  in  European 
countries  and  in  Great  Britain  all  distinguished  fami- 
lies, not  only  those  belonging  to  the  nobility,  but  to  the 
landed  gentry  as  well,  bear  distinctive  coats-of-arms. 
This  of  course  is  a  matter  of  common  knowledge.  It 
may  not  be  as  generally  known,  however,  that  during 


(4)    ASSIIETON. 

the  last  century,  especially  prior  to  the  war  for  Inde- 
pendence, arms  were  frequently  borne- by  Americans, 
particularly  by  Philadelphians  and  Bostonians,  and  by 


442  A  SYLVA:!^  CITY. 


the  leading  families  of  South  Carolina,  "Virginia  and 
Maryland.  Yet  such  is  the  fact.  For  many  years  sub- 
sequent to  the  war  of  the  Eevolution,  however,  the  use 
of  heraldic  devices  remained  in  ill  favor,  everything 
that  savored  of  royalty  being  rigorously  tabooed.  But 
for  this   Spartan   sentiment    nature    soon  provided   a 


(5)    DICKINSON. 

icjts^ent  In  that  love  of  ceremony  which  wealth  and  ease 
are  sure  to  call  forth.  Within  the  past  half  century  the 
ante-bellum  custom  has  been  revived  in  this  country 
to  an  astonishing  extent,  until  we  have  become  alto- 
gether accustomed  to  the  sight,  in  polite  circles,  of 
coats-of-arms  and  crests  upon  stationery,  plate,  furni- 
ture, coaches  and  the  like. 


THE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


443 


In  favor  of  this  ai-morial  revival  it  is  urged  that  the 
custom,  if  properly  uuderstood,  is  not  at  all  a  concomi- 
tant or  an  evidence  either  of  snobbishness  or  of  social 
exclusiveness.  But,  it  is  maintained,  heraldry  is  an 
invaluable  aid  to  biography  and  genealogy.     Says  an 


(6)    BUSHROD    WASHINGTON. 

American  writer,  "Arms  are  worthy  of  preservation, 
since  they  are  valuable  evidence  for  the  genealogist." 

On  the  other  hand  it  is  maintained  with  equal  vigor 
that  the  iudulsence  in  heraldic  devices  evidences  a 


444 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


(7)   vi:x-N. 

moiiarchial  tendency,  altogether  out  of  place  among 
republican  institutions  ;  and  that,  while  heraldry  may 
have  been  an  aid  to  the  genealogist  in  semi-feudal  ages, 
in  these  days  of  comprehensive  journalism  and  a  super- 
abundant litex-ature  practically  there  is  no  need  to  resort 
to  armory  in  the  making  of  genealogical  investigations  ; 
and,  further,  that  while  some  American  families  are 
undeniably  entitled  to  bear  arms,  the  great  majority  of 


THE  RIGUT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


445 


those  who  do  bear  them  are  mere  usurpers,  who  auda- 
ciously assume  the  arms  of  certain  Englii^li  famiUes  of 
the  same  name,  in  whose  veins  flows  not  a  drop  of  kin- 
dred blood — unless,  perchance,  the  two  foniilies  happen 
to  be,  in  common,  lineal  descendants  of  Noah. 

This  last  objection  is  unquestionably  a  tangible  and  a 
truthful  one.  It  has  been  asserted  with  much  positive- 
ness  that  of  the  many  Massachusetts  families  now 
bearing  arms,  only  eleven  have  a  technical,  i.  e.,  an 
hereditary  right  to  them.     To  a  more  or  less  extent  the 


41  ^#^ 


same  thing  can  be  said  of  Pennsylvania.  There  are 
scores  of  families  in  Philadelphia  to-day  whose  station- 
ery is  gorgeously  illuminated  with  armorial  insignia,  to 


446 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


which  they  have  no  more  right  than  to  the  castles  and 
estates  of  the  nobiUty  and  gentry  whose  arms  they  have 
filched.  Thei'e  is  no  question  but  that  this  is  a  species 
of  combined  robbery  and  snobbery  which  is  unpleas- 
antly common. 

The  mode  of  procedure  is  as  follows :  Mr.  Michael 
Patrick  McLarry  has  recently  "  struck  oil" — or  a  "  bo- 
nanza."   Mr.  Michael  Patrick  McLarry  having  settled 


(9)     BARTKAM. 

himself  in  his  brown-stone  front,  and  having  decked 
his  mansion,  his  family,  and  his  person  with  all  the  ap- 
proved accoutrements  of  wealth,  wends  his  way  to  the 


THE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


44; 


Professional  Pedigree  Preserver  and  Armorial  Artist, 
and  infoi-ms  that  individual  that  he  desires  a  coat-of- 
arms,  "  as  foine  as  inny  in  the  market."  The  astute  and 
m-bane  P.  P.  P.  A.  A.  A,  inquires  the  customer's  name, 


pr      Ip      >ni| 

(10)    SHIPPEN.  (11)    PEMBERTON. 

which  is  given.  He  then  opens,  at  the  letter  M,  a  mas- 
sive tome,  very  nearly  as  large  as  the  "Philadelphia 
Directory,"  known  as  Burk's  "General  Armory."  He 
turns  the  leaves  backward  and  forward,  hesitates  with 
some  little  concern  for  a  moment,  and  then  suddenly 
exclaims  :  "  Ah,  yes  !  Do  you  think  you  are  descended 
from  the  Mallories,  of  Mallorie  Manor,  County  Surrey?" 
"I  think  so,  sorr,"  replies  Mr.  Michael  Patrick  Mc- 
Larry,  with  a  look  and  in  a  tone  which  give  conclusive 
evidence  that  he  doesn't  think  anything  of  the  kind  ; 
and  the  ratio  of  probabilities  to  possibilities  is  as  a 


448 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


(13)    JAXXEY. 

thousand  to  one  that  he  would  have  made  precisely  the 
same  reply  if  the  Molarries,  of  Molarrie  Castle,  County 
Sussex,  had  been  cited,  instead  of  the  Mallories,  of  Mal- 
lorie  Manor,  County  Surrey. 


(13)    CHEW. 


THE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


449 


^JSS' 


(14)    LARDNER. 

This  method,  however,  is  by  some  fastidious  indi- 
viduals deemed  to  be  entirely  too  vulgar.  Their  mode 
of  procedure  is  somewhat  more  genteel — at  least  it  is 


(15)    WILLING. 


(10)    MUKUiS. 


450 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


more  expensive.  A  trip  to  Europe  and  a  visit  to  the 
Herald's  College,  in  London,  are  essential  to  the  carry- 
ing out  of  this  more  select  plan  of  action.    To  ohtain  an 


(17)    HOLLINGSWORTH. 

assignment  of  arms  it  is  customary  to  present  a  petition 
to  the  Earl  Marshal,  and  the  applicant  is  required, 
nominally,  to  produce  evidence  that  he  can  sustain  the 
rank  of  gentry.  The  fee  for  a  general  search  is  £2  2s. ; 
for  an  ordinary  search  5s. ;  and  for  copying  and  regis- 


THE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


451 


tering  6s,  M.  for  the  first,  and  5s.  for  every  other 
generation.  The  ofiicials  are  very  affable,  and  the 
search  clerks  not  critically  captious  ;  and  the  customer 


(18)    KAWLB. 


(19)    WILLIAMS. 


(aO)    NOKKIS. 


(21)    TILGUMAN. 


453 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


(22)    POWEL. 

carries  away  with  him  the  arms  of  his  newly-acquired 
forefathers,  which  are  thereafter  cherished  with  much 
solicitude — i.  e.,  with  emotions  somewhat  akin  to  those 
entertained  by  the  eccentric  Major-General  in  the 
"Pirates  of  Penzance,"  who  sits  in  pensive  melancholy 
in  an  old  chapel,  upon  his  recently-purchased  estate,  and 
indulges  in  that  plaintive  colloquy  which,  though  fami- 
liar, is  worth  quoting : 


THE  RlOnr  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


453 


^^  General.  Why  do  I  sit  here?  To  escape  from  the 
pirates'  clutches  I  described  myself  as  an  orphan,  and  I 
am  no  orphan.  I  came  here  to  humble  myself  before  the 
tombs  of  my  ancestors,  and  to  implore  their  pardon  for 
the  disgrace  I  have  brought  upon  them. 

Frederick.  But  you  forget,  sir.  You  only  bought  the 
property  a  year  ago,  and  the  stucco  on  your  baronial  castle 
is  scarcely  dry. 

General.  Frederick,  in  this  chapel  are  ancestors  ;  you 
cannot  deny  that.  I  don't  know  whose  ancestors  they 
were,  but  I  know  whose  ancestors  they  are,  and  I  shudder 
to  think  that  their  descendant  by  purchase  (if  I  may  so 


(23)    McCALL. 

describe  myself)  should  have  brought  disgrace  upon  what 
I  have  no  doubt  was  an  unstained  escutcheon." 

There  are,  however,  in  Philadelphia  many  old  fami- 
lies who  bear  arms,  not  ostentatiously,  but  modestly, 
which  have  been  borne  by  their  ancestors  before  them 


454 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


for  a  century  and  more.  As  to  how  these  heraldic  em- 
blems, individually  or  as  a  whole,  came  to  be  originally 
borne  the  writer  declines  to  express  an  opinion.  That 
a  ver}^  large  percentage  of  those  whose  coats-of-arms  are 
referred  to  in  this  sketch  are  lineal  descendants  of  fine 
old  families  belonging  to  the  English,  Welsh,  Scotch  or 
Irish  gentry,  and  that  they,  therefore,  bear  their  armo- 
rial insignia  by  i-ight  of  heredity,  the  writer  is  firmly 
convinced.    That,  however,  some  few  of  them  bear  their 


("2-1:)     tilLPIN. 

arms  without  such  right  cannot  be  questioned  ;  for  no 
less  a  personage  than  the  eminent  and  cultured  James 
Logan,  Chief  Magistrate  of  the  Province  from  173G 
to  1738,  has  left  a  manuscript — recentlj'  published  in 
Keith's  "Provincial  Councillors" — to  wit,  a  letter  to 


THE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS.  455 

Cornal  George  Logan,  dated  September  9, 1713,  in  which 
he  frankly  says : 

"N,  Giiffitts  infonning  me  that  thou  desirest  ye  coat-of- 
arms  belonging  to  our  name,  I  here  give  thee  in  wax  what 


(25)    LENOX. 

I  have  on  my  seal,  but  believe  neither  of  us  have  any  very 
good  right  to  it,  being  what  the  English  Logans  of  Ox- 
fordshire carry  ;  but  those  of  Scotland,  I  have  been  told, 
have  a  very  diti'erent  one  (and  yet  a  good  one),  wh.  I 
have  never  seen  ;  however,  having  occasion  for  a  seal,  and 
tinding  only  this  in  my  way  T  made  use  of  it,  nor  do  I  fear 
a  citation  to  ye  Herald's  Office  for  my  presumption." 

Before  going  farther  it  may  be  well  to  premise  a  brief 
statement  of  the  significance  attached  to  the  more 
common  of  the  heraldic  lines  and  symbols. 

The  "shield,"  or  the  leading  feature  of  an  armorial 
-*)a,t,  is  distinguished   by  certain  colors,  called  "  tiuc- 


456 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


(26)    ALLISON. 

tures,"  which  are  separated  by  division  lines.  The 
tinctures  used  in  heraldry  are  metals,  colors  and  furs. 
They  are  often  expressed  in  their  natural  colors,  but  in 
drawings  and  engravings  are  represented  by  certain 
lines  and  points — an  invention  of  a  noted  Italian  herald, 
Sylvester  Petra-Sancta.  The  two  metals  employed  are  : 
or,  or  gold,  represented  by  little  dots  in  a  plain  field  ;  and 
argent,  or  silver,  expressed  b}"  the  shield  being  entirely 
white.  The  five  colors  used  are  :  azure,  or  blue,  de- 
picted by  horizontal  lines  ;  gules,  or  red,  shown  by  per- 
pendicular lines  ;  vert,  or  green,  indicated  by  parallel 
lines  from  the  dexter  chief  to  the  sinister  base — i.  e., 
Ji-om  the  upper  right-hand  corner  to  the  lower  left-hand 


THE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


45-; 


corner ;  sable.,  or  black,  designated  by  cross  lines,  hori- 
zontal and  perpendicular ;  and  purpure,  or  purple,  rep- 


GORDON. 


HAMILTON. 


UENNY.  JOHN   PENN. 

(27)    THE    SEALS    OF  FIVE    EAKLY    GOVERNOIIS. 

resented  bylines  from  the  sinister  chief  (upper  left-hand 
corner)  to  the  dexter  base  (lower  right-hand  corner). 
The  furs   most   frequently  employed   are  :   ermine,  de- 


458  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


picted  by  a  white  field  with  black  spots  of  a  peculiar 
shape  ;  and  ermines,  indicated  by  a  black  field  with  simi- 
larly shaped  white  spots.  These  explanations,  which 
are,  of  course,  technical  and  encyclopedic,  are  given  in 
order  that  the  reader  of  this  sketch  may  be  made  familiar 
not  only  with  the  charges  upon  the  accompanying  coats- 
*  of-arms,  but  also  with  the  hereditary  tinctures  with 
which  these  heraldic  coats  are  colored — in  a  word,  that 
the  artist's  work  may  be  intelligently  examined. 

The  arms  of  William  Penn,  whose  father,  Vice- Ad- 
miral William  Penii,  was  knighted  by  Charles  II,  were 
long  borne  by  members  of  his  family,  and  are  borne  to- 
day by  Major  Peter  Penn-Gaskell  Hall,  IJ.  S.  A.,  of  this 
city,  quartered  with  those  of  the  Gaskell  family  (7). 

Judge  Bushrod  Washington,  who  for  many  years 
honored  the  United  States  Circuit  Court  Bench  at  Phi- 
ladelphia, bore  the  same  arms  as  did  General  George 
Washington,  both  the  general  and  the  judge  being  de- 
scendants, as  is  supposed,  of  theWashingtons  in  the  north 
of  England.  The  same  arms  are  borne  to-day  by  William 
Herbert  Washington,  Esq.,  of  the  Philadelphia  bar  (6). 

Among  other  distinguished  Philadelphians  of  early 
times  was  Thomas  Lloyd,  born  in  1G40,  who  was  the 
first  Chief  Magistrate  of  the  Province  under  Penn.  His 
ancestry  can  be  traced  back  through  "the  fair  Maid  of 
Kent "  to  the  latter's  grandfather,  Edward  I.  Many  of 
Lloyd's  descendants,  through  the  female  branches,  are 
now  living  in  Philadelphia,  who  bear  the  Lloyd  arms, 
impaled   with   those  of  Thomas   Lloyd's   mother,   nee 


THE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


459 


Elizabeth  Stanley.  The  ae(*ompanyin<:j  illustration  is 
that  of  a  coat-of-arnis  on  an  oak  panel  formerly  at  Dolo- 
bran  Hall— the  Lloyd  estate— Dolobran,  County  Mont- 
gomery, Wales  (2). 


(2S)    RIDDLE. 

Dr.  Thomas  Grienic,  another  early  member  of  the 
Provincial  Council,  was  also  of  royal  lineage,  his  ances- 
tor being  Sir  Thomas  Graham  (or  Gra'me)  who  married 
a  daughter  of  King  llobert  III  of  Scotland.  None  of 
his  descendants  are  now  living  in  Philadelphia,  but  the 
Gramme  coat-of-arms,  as  borne  by  the  famous  Elizabeth 


4fi0 


A  SYLVAN'  CITY. 


Ferguson,  nee  Graeme,  his  daughter,  is  given  here- 
with (3). 

Eobert  Assheton,  who  was  likewise  a  Provincial 
Councillor  early  iu  the  last  centur}',  descended  from  Sir 
John  de  Assheton,  who  was  made  a  Knight  of  the  Bath 
at  the  coronation  of  Henry  lY.  jSTone  of  Robert  Asshe- 
ton's  descendants  now  reside  in  Philadelphia ;  but  so 
long  as  any  members  of  the  family  remained  they  bore 
the  Assheton  arms  as  given  above  (4). 

James  Logan,  born  in  1C74,  besides  being  a  Provincial 
Councillor,  was  Penn's  private  secretary,  Mayor  of 
Philadelphia,  Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court,  Pre- 


(29)    WATMOUGH.  (30)    BOUDINOT. 

sident  of  the  Council,  etc.  His  coat-of-arms,  referred 
to  above,  as  borne  by  himself  and  by  his  descendants  of 
the  present  day  and  as  used  by  the  Loganian  Library, 
is  also  given  herewith  (8). 


TEE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


461 


Likewise  will  be  found  above  the  arms  of  John  Dick- 
inson, born  in  1732,  autlior  of  the  famous  "  Farmer's 
Letters,"  founder  of  Dickinson  College,  and,  success- 


(31)  THE  SMYTH  HATCHMKXT  AT  CHRIST  CHURCH. 

ively,  President  of  Delaware  and  of  Pennsylvania.  His 
brother,  General  Philemon  Dickinson — both  being  sons 
of  Judge  Samuel  Dickinson,  of  Kent  County,  Delaware, 
— bore  the  same  arms  (5). 

Benjamin  Franklin's  brother,  John  Franklin,  bore  a 
coat-of-arms,  as  given  above,  although  it  is  stated  upon 


462  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

very  excellent  authority  that  it  was  borne  without  right, 
being  of  spui'ious  origin.  That  Benjamin  Franklin 
brought  this  heraldic  insignia  with  him  when  he  emi- 
grated from  Massachusetts  is  not  clear.  It  is  very  prob- 
able that  he  did  not  (36). 

Among  other  distinguished  members  of  the  Provincial 
Council  was  Thomas  Hopkinson.  Francis  Hopkinson, 
one  of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
from  New  Jersey,  was  a  son  of  his,  while  a  son  of  the 
signer,  Joseph  Hopkinson,  was  a  distinguished  judge, 
and  the  author  of  that  familiar  song,  "  Hail  Columbia. " 
The  name  is  still  a  reputable  one  in  Philadelphia.  The 
Hopkinson  arms  are  given  herewith  (38). 

Accompanying  this  sketch  will  also  be  found  the  arms 
of  John  Bartram,  born  in  1701,  spoken  of  by  Linnajus 
as  "the  greatest  natural  botanist  in  the  world."  His 
grandfather,  John  Bartram,  came  from  England  with 
Penn,  in  1682  (9). 

Among  other  distinguished  Philadelphians  whose  de- 
scendants bear  their  arms,  which  are  given  hei'ewith, 
may  be  noted  the  following  :  Edward  Shippen,  born' in 
1639,  a  member  and  the  president  of  the  Provincial 
Council,  Speaker  of  the  Assembly,  and  the  first  Mayor 
of  Philadelphia  (10)  ;  Thomas  Janney,  born  in  1633,  for 
many  years  an  esteemed  minister  of  the  Society  of 
Friends,  and  one  of  the  earliest  members  of  the  Pro- 
vincial Council  (12)  ;  Benjamin  Chew,  born  in  1722, 
member  of  the  Council,  Attorney-General,  Chief  Justice 
of  the  Supreme  Court,  President  of  the  High  Court  of 


THE  RTGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


463 


Chancery,  etc.  (13) ;  Dr.  Thomas  Cadwalader,  an  emi- 
nent physician  in  his  day,  who  was  also  a  member  of  the 
Provincial  Council  (32) ;  Valentine  Hollingsworth,  who 
accompanied  Penn  in  the  Welcome^  in  1682,  and  who  was 
a  member  of  the  first  Assembly  in  1683,  and  one  of  the 
first  grand  jury  impanelled  in  the  province  (17) ;  Isaac 
Norris,  who  came  to  Philadelphia  in  1692,  who  was 
President  Judge  of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas,  and, 
for  upwards  of  thirty  years,  a  member  of  the  Provincial 


(32)  CADWALADEK.  (33)  ABEKCKOMBIE. 

Council  (20) ;  Charles  Willing,  born  in  1710,  twice  Mayor 
of  Philadelphia,  whose  son,  Thomas  AVilling,  was  the 
senior  partner  in  the  famous  firm  of  AVilling  &  Morris 
during  the  Revolution,  and  president  of  the  first  United 
States  Bank  (15),  and  Francis  Rawle  (18),  Anthony  Mor- 
ris (16),  Phineas  Pcmberton  (11),  Lyndford  Lardnor  (14), 
and  James  Tilghman  (21),  who,  besides  holding  other 


464  A  SYLVAW  CITY. 


offices  of  honor,  were  members  of  that  distinguished 
body,  so  often  referred  to  in  this  sketch,  the  Provincial 
Council. 

There  are  still  other  Philadelphia  families  who  have 
borne  arms  since  some  time  in  the  last  century,  among 
them  the  following  :  Biddle  (28),  Powel  (22),  Gilpin  (24),  " 
Lenox  (25),  Allison  (26),  McCall  (23),  Penington  (37), 
Williams  (19),  Boudinot  (30),  Watmough  (29),  and 
Abercrombie  (33). 

Most  of  the  illustrations  given  are  fac  similes  or  re- 
duced copies  of  book-plates— that  is,  engravings  of 
flimily  arms  placed  upon  the  inside  of  the  front  cover  of 
the  books  comprising  a  library,  as  a  distinguishing  mark 
of  ownership  ;  for  books  will  be  borrowed.  Arms  were 
chiefly  used  upon  seals,  however,  in  olden  times,  when 
pretty  much  all  correspondence  was  fastened  with 
sealing-wax,  the  envelope  of  the  present  being  a  thing 
not  dreamed  of.  Accompanying  will  be  found  copies 
of  the  coats-of-arms,  taken  from  the  individual  seals 
of  five  of  the  early  Governors  of  the  province,  to  wit., 
Patrick  Gordon,  1726-36  ;  James  Hamilton,  1748-54, 
1759-63;  Robert  Hunter  Morris,  1754-56-,  William 
Denny,  1756-59,  and  John  Penn,  1763-71,  1773-76  (27). 

Coats-of-arms  have  long  been  utilized  also  upon  sta- 
tionery, silver  plate,  furniture  and  family  coaches.  This 
latter  custom,  a  common  one  at  the  present  time,  was 
in  vogue  so  early  as  the  time  of  the  first  Isaac  Norris, 
who  came  to  Philadelphia  in  1692.  From  a  manuscript 
now  extant,  we  find  that  in  ordering  his  carriage  he  di- 


THE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


4G5 


(34)  VAULT  COVERINGS  AT  CHRIST  CHURCH  BURIAL  GROUND. 


466 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


rected  his  family  arms,   "three  falcon   heads,"  to  be 
quartered  upon  it. 

Armorial  coats  have  also  for  many  years,  and  indeed 
for  centuries,  been  made  an  imjiortant  element  in  archi- 
tecture, in  the  shape  of  wood  carvings,  stone  sculp- 
tures, and  metal  castings.  Upon  the  grating  covering 
each  of  the  two  lower  front  windows  at  the  present 
rooms  of  the  Historical  Society,  on  Spruce  Street  above 
Eighth,  is  an  iron  casting  of  the  arms  of  William  Penn, 


^nHT^- 


./^ 


■>ii 


(35;    XUii   I'iiTIiUS   AKMS   IN    STUCCO,  AT   BELMONT. 


THE  RIOnT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


46" 


the  Founder,  the  appearance  of  which  is  indicated  by 
the  illustration  (7).  Coats-of-arms  were  likewise  painted 
in  panels  upon  the  walls  of  many  residences,  and,  in  the 


A  DEST3 

(36)  FRANKLIN. 

form  of  stucco  work,  were  placed  upon  the  ceilings  of 
family  mansions.  The  arms  of  the  Peters  family,  in 
this  latter  form,  can  be  seen  to-day  upon  the  ceiling  of 
one  of  the  lower  rooms  at  Belmont  Mansion,  in  Fair- 
mount  Park,  formerly  the  historic  residence  of  Judge 
Richard  Peters,  of  Revolutionary  fame  (35). 

In  early  times  coats-of-arms  were  also  occasionally 
cut  into  gravestones  and  vault-slabs.     At  St.  Peter's 


468 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


Church,  Third  and  Pine  Streets,  there  are  two  sucli  her- 
aldic devices,  one  on  the  Sims  slab  (1),  on  the  eastern 
end  of  the  church,  and  the  other  on  the  south  side  of  the 
Wallace  vault,  near  the  Third  Street  end  of  the  church- 
yard (39).  There  can  also  be  found  at  the  present  time, 
in  the  burial-ground  of  Christ  Church,  Fifth  and  Arch 
Streets,  a  number  of  coats-of-arms  cut  into  old  tomb- 
stones and  vault-coverings  ;  but  they  present  so  crum- 
bled an  appearance  as  to  be  perfectly  illegible  (34).  An 
old  custom,  still  much  in  vogue  in  Great  Britain,  was 
practiced  in  this  country  to  some  extent  seventy-five  or 
one  hundred  years  ago.     Reference  is  made  to  the  use 


(37)    PENINGTON. 

of  hatchments  upon  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  some 
distinguished  personage.  Hatchments  are  lozenge- 
shaped  frames  charged  with  a  shield-of-arms — a  sort  of 
inescutcheon — usually  affixed  to  the  front  of  a  house 
upon  the  decease  of  one  of  its  principal  inmates,  and, 
upon  the  day  of  the  fuiaeral,  carried  to  the  church  and 
hung  upon  the  wall,  or  upon  some  convenient  pillar. 


THE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS. 


469 


-iii 


-4 


^v^Ji 


^. 


(38)  norivixsoN. 
there  to  remain  for  all  time.  There  are  but  two  hatch- 
ments positively  known  to  be  in  existence  in  America 
at  the  present  time.  One  of  these,  containing  the  arms 
of  Fretlcrick  Smyth,  a  former  Chief  Justice  of  New 
Jersey,  hangs  beneath  the  belfry  of  Christ  Church,  where 
it  has  remained  since  1800.  The  only  other  authentic 
hatchment  in  this  country  is  one  known  as  the  Ralph 
Izard  hatchment,  hanging  in  the  quaint  Church  of  St. 
James,  at  Goose  Creek,  S.  C.  The  Izards  are  related 
to  the  Draytous  of  Philadelphia,  formerly  a  South  Caro- 


470 


A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


Una  family  also.  They  are  likewise  related  by  marriage 
to  the  Shippens — George  Izard,  a  son  of  Ralph  Izard, 
having  married  the  relict  of  Thomas  Lee  Shippen. 

The  older  we  grow  as  a  nation,  the  more  heed  we 
naturally  give  to  matters  historical  and  antiquarian ; 
and  as  genealogical  research  lies  distinctively  within 
the  domain  of  the  historian  and  paleologist,  so  the  sub- 


mw:/j  1 ,1 


\     V      J  "  '  ' 

(39)    FROM   THE  WALLACE   VAULT   AT    ST.    PETEr'S. 


TEE  RIGHT  TO  BEAR  ARMS.  471 

ject  of  heraldry,  which  is,  according  to  the  argument  of 
the  armorial  enthusiast,  an  important  adjunct  of  gene- 
alogy, grows  upon  the  attention  of  the  careful  student, 
and,  to  some  extent,  of  the  public  as  well.  There  is  no 
doubt  but  that  we  have  made  more  or  less  progress 
since  the  benighted  days,  some  years  ago,  in  which  an 
English  diplomatist  in  this  country  underwent  so  pain- 
ful an  experience.  While  in  New  York  he  sent  his  Lon- 
don chariot  to  a  certain  coachmaker's,  and  upon  calling 
shortly  afterwards  was  somewhat  astounded  at  dis- 
covering his  ancestral  shield  and  crest  upon  half  a 
dozen  Yankee  gigs  and  dog-carts,  and  having  asked  for 
an  explanation  was  informed  that  "the  pattern  seemed 
to  be  very  much  admired."  We  have  gotten  beyond 
that  stage  of  blissful  ignorance,  however,  and  we  may 
well  speculate  with  Mr.  William  H.  Whitmore  ("Ele- 
ments of  Heraldry")  as  to  whether  or  not,  "with  this 
increase  of  familiarity  with  the  science,  we  may  also 
expect  a  more  scrupulous  attention  to  its  laws,  and  a 
decrease  of  the  ridiculous  assumptions  which  have 
thrown  an  undeserved  stigma  upon  American  Her- 
aldry." 


STEPHEN  GIRARD; 

MARINER    AND    MERCHANT. 


't'NDER  the  roof  of  an  old  nouse 
in  Water  Street,  one  Decem- 
ber day,  over  tifty  years  ago, 
a  will  was  read,  which  made 
the  City  of  Philadelphia  one 
,'/  of  the  richest  legatees  on  record. 
The  fortune,  as  it  then  stood, 
amounted  to  nearly  eight  millions 
of  dollars,  but  it  included  prop- 
erty which  has  grown  so  valuable 
that,  great  as  are  the  expenses  which  have  developed 
under  the  will,  they  do  not  consume  even  the  interest,  a 
portion  of  which  is  yearly  added  to  the  capital.  The 
will  provided  for  a  plain  and  comfortable  home  which 
should  hold  at  least  one  hundred  orphan  boys,  and  give 
them  a  support  and  education.  The  trustees  instead 
built  a  marble  palace,  supported  by  pillars  each  of  which 
cost  thirteen  thousand  dollars.  Everything  else  was  in 
proportion,  and  magnificence  was  the  only  object  held 
in  view.  Instead  of  a  hundred  boys,  Girard  College 
last  year  contained  one  thousand  one  hundred  and 
four.     The  expenditures  for  the  college  the  same  year 

472 


STATUE  OF  STEPHEX  GIUAKD — AT  THE  COLLEGE  DOOKWAT. 


STEPUEN  OIRARD.  475 

amounted  to  nearly  five  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
Over  live  hundred  thousand  were  expended  on  other 
trusts,  and  yet  there  was  a  balance  of  over  twenty  thou- 
sand left  unused. 

This  is  a  handsome  showing  for  one  man,  and  he  a 
foreigner,  who  had  to  borrow  five  dollars  to  bring  him 
into  the  city  !  And  when  Stephen  Girard  left  this 
great  fortune  he  did  not  leave  it  to  perpetuate  his  name, 
or  build  a  great  monument  to  his  memory.  Each  of 
the  carefully -devised  clauses  showed  that  he  meant  it  to 
be  of  honest,  enduring  use.  He  wanted  fatherless  boys 
educated  as  working  men  ;  he  wanted  the  river  front 
improved,  and  the  city  made  safer  and  more  healthful ; 
the  hospitals  were  to  have  larger  means  of  helping  the 
sick  and  insane,  and  nurses  were  to  be  educated.  None 
of  these  objects  were  subjects  of  speculation  with  Girard ; 
he  had  a  personal  interest  in  each  one.  He  was  him- 
self an  uneducated  bo} ,  and  knew  at  what  a  disadvan- 
tage he  had  been  placed.  The  river  front  had  been  tlie 
scene  of  his  life-work  ;  and  no  one  knew  better  what 
care  the  insane  needed,  and  how  necessary  were  trained 
nurses  to  the  public.  He  had  lived  in  Philadelphia 
through  days  of  war  and  blockade  ;  through  prosperity 
and  through  desolating  plague.  He  came  to  it  when  it 
was  part  of  the  British  colonies,  and  he  had  been  the 
staunch,  steady  friend,  not  only  of  the  city  but  of  the 
Countrj',  through  many  heavy,  dark  days.  Having  no 
children  of  his  own  he  adopted  those  who  were  father- 
less. 


476  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


And  Philadelphia  ?  How  has  she  taken  these  bene- 
fits, and  what  has  she  done  for  the  memory  of  her 
benefactor  ?  Apart  from  the  extravagance  of  building 
such  a  school-home,  she  has  administered  the  Trust 
with  honesty  and  fidelity.  There  has  never  been  a 
scandal  attached  to  the  Girard  Estate,  nor  any  question 
of  its  administration.  As  for  the  man  himself — Phila- 
delphia has  not  only  laughed  at  him,  wondered  over 
him,  told  hard  stories  of  him,  but  she  has  also  allowed 
others  to  do  so.  She  has  never  taken  enough  interest 
in  him  to  have  a  biography  written  that  would  do  him 
justice.  She  has  suffered  the  most  unblushing  stories 
of  him  and  of  his  family  to  go  uncontradicted — she  has 
never  taken  the  trouble  to  inquire  what  sort  of  man  he 
really  was. 

Does  any  one  believe  that  the  morose  and  ancient 
figure  with  one  eye — ill-clad,  silent,  repulsive,  unob- 
servant— shambling  through  the  streets  of  Philadelphia, 
which  is  pictured  in  all  biographical  sketches  of  Girard, 
really  represents  the  alert,  keen  Frenchman,  who,  moi-e 
than  any  other  man,  built  up  the  city's  commerce,  who 
was  the  bravest  in  pestilence,  the  quickest  to  save  the 
country  from  financial  ruin,  who  made  a  fortune  for 
himself  and  gave  aid  to  the  helpless '? 

Curious  and  eccentric  he  certainly  was,  but  grapes 
grow  on  grape-vines,  even  though  the  vine  be  gnarled, 
and  out  of  Girard's  life  came  his  virtues.  He  was  keen 
at  a  bargain,  just — not  merciful ;  but  he  was  not  crafty 
nor  miserly  ;  he  was  not  intolerant  to  the  helpless,  nor 


STEPHEN  GIBARD. 


477 


did  he  sneer  at  religion.     He  had  a  heart  as  well  as  a 
brain,  even  if  it  were  the  weaker  of  the  two. 

Stephen  Girard  was  a 
man  under  a  possession. 
He  had  a  great  talent, 
and  it  dominated  him. 
In  his  pursuit  of  business 
he  was  as  keen  as  a  lover, 
and  as  blind  to  outside 
and  diverting  influences. 
It  was  not  money-making 
that  was  his  passion,  that 
came  as  a  logical  result ; 
but  he  was  absorbed  in, 
and  devoted  to  business. 


A    COKNEK    OF    TUE    COLLEGE. 


478  A  STLVAIf  CITY. 


He  sometimes  hardly  seemed  to  realize  the  value  of 
money  to  other  people,  and  that  a  man  should  be  ruined 
because  he  could  not  command  a  certain  sum  on  a  cer- 
tain day  was  almost  a  crime  to  him.     No  one  had  a 
right  to  get  into  such  a  position,  and  he  should  ask  no 
pity.     Girard  had  no  patience  with  failures.     If  a  man 
had  feet,  let  him  stand  on  them.    No  one  found  Girard 
willing  to  act  as  a  crutch,  although  he  could  go  into  the 
houses  whose  very  air  was  death,  and  in  his  arms  carry 
out    men   who   were    dying    with   a   pestilence.      He 
believed  in  fraternity,  but  his  employes  were— his  em- 
ployes.     In   his   counting-room,   his  bank,  his  house, 
there  was  but  one  will,  and  that  was  his  own.    He  paid 
for  the  work  done  for  him.     Did  the  worker  need  more 
money  ?  had  he  necessities  beyond  his  income  ?    What 
was  that  to  his  employer !     He  kept  to  his  limits  in  all 
his  relations  in  life,  and  never  lost  a  clear  sense  of  rela- 
tive positions.     After  his  bx-other  Jean  died,  he  took 
charge  of  the  three  orphan  children  left  in  Philadel- 
phia.    He  sent  them  to  the  best  schools,  but  he  paid 
the  bills  out  of  the  little  estate  their  father  left.     His 
house  was  their  home,  and  he  was  kind  to  them.     He 
never  bought  a  shawl  or  dress  for  one  that  he  did  not 
for  the  others,  and  he  remembered  their  girlish  fancies. 
After  they  had  married  from  his  house  he  petted  their 
children,  and  liked  to  have  them  about,  and  indeed  felt 
a  right  to  the  little  people,  but  he  never  adopted  these 
girls,  and  never  seemed  to  have  a  father's  devotion  for 
them.     He  corresponded  with  his  family  in  France,  but 


STEPHEN  GIRARD. 


479 


ON   THE    STAIRWAT— visitors'    DAT. 


480  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

he  was  too  busy  watching  the  markets  of  the  world  to 
give  much  time  to  individuals,  even  if  they  were  his 
relations. 

He  was  born  in  Bordeaux,  of  a  family  characterized 
by  a  devotion  to  the  sea  and  a  talent  for  commerce. 
His  grandfather,  John  Girard,  was  "  Captain,  Master, 
Patron,"  and  his  father  and  uncles  repeated  the  record. 
His  father,  Pierre  Girard,  however,  Avent  farther,  and 
was  the  hero  of  an  adventure  that  brought  the  family 
much  honor.  England  and  France  were,  at  the  time 
of  the  story,  at  war,  and  both  fleets  were  oflf  Brest, 
watching  chances  to  do  mischief ;  and  so  England  one 
day  sent  a  fire-ship  into  the  midst  of  the  enemy  and 
set  aflame  a  ship  of  the  line.  At  sea  a  ship  on  fire  is 
not  a  desirable  neighbor,  and  it  may  be  imagined  that 
the  other  vessels  quickly  drew  out  of  danger.  But 
Pierre  Girard  was  the  man  for  an  emergency,  so  he  up 
with  his  sails  and  went  into  action  with  the  fire.  He 
did  not  go  to  rescue  the  crew,  but  meant  to  put  the 
fire  out,  and  he  succeeded.  Then  he  sailed  back  to  his 
place,  and  the  crew  of  the  endangered  ship  set  them- 
selves to  work,  and  were  soon  in  condition  to  rejoin  the 
fleet  and  look  for  revenge.  It  was  so  bold  and  well- 
managed  an  affair  that  it  was  reported  to  Louis  XV, 
who  was  greatly  delighted,  and,  sending  for  Captain 
Girard,  took  the  sword  from  his  own  side  and  knighted 
him  by  conferring  on  him  the  Order  of  St.  Louis.  He 
ordered  a  gold  medal  struck  commemorating  the  act, 
and  had  the  whole  affair  placed  on  record  in  the  Admi- 


STEPHEN  GIRARD. 


481 


IN    TUE   COLLEGE   LIBKARY. 


482  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

ralty  of  Paris.  And  so  Captain  Girard  went  home  to 
Bordeaux  with  the  order  on  his  coat,  and  the  king's 
sword  by  his  side,  and  when  he  died  the  sword  was, 
according  to  his  orders,  placed  in  his  coffin  and  buried 
with  him. 

Stephen  was  the  eldest  child  of  this  happy  hero,  and 
according  to  the  baptismal  record  which  we  give,  ap- 
pears to  have  been  at  first  called  by  the  French  syn- 
onym of  Etienne.  In  the  records  of  the  family  the 
names  of  four  others  appear — two  brothers,  a  sister, 
and  one  who  is  but  once  mentioned  because  he  died 
and  his  father  mourned  for  him  greatly.  Jean  was 
near  Stephen  in  age,  being  born  in  1751,  and  was 
also  the  captain  of  a  ship,  merchant  and  trader.  He 
had  an  estate  in  the  West  Indies,  which  seems  to  have 
been  inherited  from  his  father,  but  he  was  several  times 
in  Philadelphia,  and  was  once  in  partnership  with  his 
brother.  When  he  was  off"  on  his  voyages  he  wrote 
frank  and  friendly  letters  to  Stephen,  and  advised 
him  of  wines  and  flour,  tobacco  and  other  exports  and 
imports.  He  sold  barrels  of  haii'-powder  for  Stephen, 
as  well  as  family  flour ;  and  in  one  of  his  letters  gives 
his  staid  Philadelphia  brother  a  comical  commission  by 
deputizing  him  as  an  ambassador  in  a  love  affair.  He 
has  made  up  his  mind,  he  writes,  that  he  should  like  to 
marry  a  certain  "  K.  B." — he  only  gives  her  initials — 
in  Philadelphia,  but  before  he  committed  himself  he 
wished  Stephen  to  go  see  how  the  land  lay.  In  the  first 
place,  his  brother  was  to  find  out  whether  Jean's  person 


STEPHEN  GIRARD. 


483 


DBPARTEMENT  DE  LA  CIRONDr. 

tt  ■  — 

UAIBIE  D£  LA  YILLE  DE  BORDEAUL 


tSt'Gf.f^'^iP  <3aia^3^saa»ck 


Extrait  du  Jlegistre  des  actes  de  ^^^ 


de  Ian  /^^/^ 


>ti^!Z^i^2is. 


^^*-«-<»^ 


^<. 


.-&C*^ 


o-e-fc^   o-<M^ 


^:^^^ 


STEPHEN    GIRARD'S    BIRTH   CERTIFICATE. 

and  fortune  were  pleasing  to  the  young  lady,  and  then 
whether  she  had  any  money ;  because  if  she  had  not, 


484  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

Jean  remarks,  that  will  settle  the  matter.  Something 
apparently  did  decide  him  in  the  negative,  as  he  finally 
married  a  young  Irish  girl,  who  evidently  was  one  of 
the  few  persons  not  in  awe  of  Stephen,  as,  it  is  said, 
she  once  became  so  angry  with  him  that  she  threw  a 
bowl  at  his  head,  and  so  broke  not  only  the  bowl  but 
*  the  partnership.  AVhen  this  was  done,  Jean  was  worth 
sixty  thousand  dollars,  while  Stephen  had  but  thirty. 
They  must  after  this  have  made  the  quarrel  up,  be- 
cause Jean  in  his  letters  perpetually  confides  his  "  little 
family  "  to  Stephen's  care,  reminding  him  that  in  his 
own  absence  he,  Stephen,  is  their  only  protector.  The 
other  brother,  a  second  Etienne,  who  kept  the  name 
and  who  was  born  in  1757,  was  a  lawyer  and  a  school- 
fellow of  Napoleon  Bonaparte's.  In  the  days  of  the 
French  Ke volution  he  was  a  member  of  the  "  Franklin 
Club,"  and  always  held  honorable  positions  in  Bor- 
deaux. 

Both  of  these  brothers  had  the  advantage  of  being 
well  educated,  but  Stephen  never  would  go  to  college. 
When  he  was  about  seventeen  he  made  some  remarks 
at  the  table  in  the  presence  of  his  stepmother  about 
second  marriages,  which  displeased  his  father,  who  told 
him  very  promptly  that  if  he  could  not  behave  in  his 
house  he  could  leave  it.  Stephen  was  as  quick  to  reply 
that  nothing  would  suit  him  better,  and  if  his  father 
would  give  him  "  a  venture"  he  would  go  at  once.  The 
father  took  him  at  his  word  and  bought  assorted  goods 
to  the  value  of  a  thousand  francs,  and  with  them  Ste- 


STEPHEX  OTRARD. 


485 


SECRETARY    AND    MUSICAL    CLOCK    PRESENTED   TO   GIRARD    BT 
JEROME    BONAPARTE. 


486  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

phen  set  sail  for  the  French  "West  Indies,  and  so  was 
launched  in  life.  He  began  as  cabin  boy,  but  was  soon 
promoted  to  be  cook,  and  then  went  up  grade  after 
grade  to  steward,  mate  and  captain,  until  he  became,  as 
he  liked  to  say,  "mariner  and  merchant."  and  was  a 
master  in  both.  He  seems  to  have  traded  principally 
between  New  Orleans  and  the  West  Indies,  coming  to 
Philadelphia  for  the  first  time  in  1709.  When  he  came 
at  last  to  stay,  it  was — if  the  story  is  true — by  an  acci- 
dent. In  May  of  1776,  he  was  on  his  way  in  a  sloop 
from  2^'ew  Orleans  to  Canada,  when  he  was  lost  in  a 
fog.  His  signal  of  distress  brought  an  American  vessel 
alongside,  and  Girard  asked  where  he  w\as.  "In 
Delaware  Ba5\"  The  next  question  was  how  was  he 
to  get  out  ?  This,  the  American  told  him,  was  easy 
enough,  but  just  outside  the  bay  the  sea  swarmed  with 
British  cruisers,  and  his  advice  to  the  young  Frenchman 
was,  that  having  come  safely  in  he  should  risk  no  more, 
but  sail  direct  to  Philadelphia  and  there  dispose  of  his 
cargo.  To  this  Girard  objected ;  he  did  not  know  the 
river,  and  had  no  money  to  pay  a  pilot.  The  captain 
then  backed  his  advice  by  action,  and  lent  Girard  five 
dollars ;  a  pilot  came  on  board,  and  so  Girard  ignorantly 
and  by  chance,  it  seemed,  went  to  his  future  home  in 
the  Quaker  City.  In  July,  the  ports  were  all  block- 
aded by  Lord  Howe,  and  Girard  sailed  no  more.  He 
rented  a  little  house  on  Water  Street,  and  went  into 
another  "venture"  of  assorted  goods.  He  bought  every- 
thing that  he  thought  would  sell  again,  but  the  business 


STEPHEX  OIRARD. 


487 


STEPHEN   GIRARD,   HIS  GIG. 


he  found  most  profitable  during  all  these  early  years 
was  bottling  wine  and  brandy,  which  were  consigned  to 
him  in  casks  from  Bordeaux. 

In  front  of  his  little  shop  there  stood  a  pump,  and 
among  the  girls  who  came  for  water  was  Polly  Luin. 
She  was  young,  and  she  was  pretty ;  her  eyes  were 
black,  and  her  dark  hair  curled  about  her  neck.  Girard 
was  not  so  absorbed  that  he  could  not  see  all  this, 
nor  was  she  indifferent  to  the  conquest  she  made  of  the 
young  Frenchman.     He  visited  her,  he  asked  her  to 


488  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


marry  him,  and  Polly  laughed  and  said  she  would,  and 
so,  on  the  sixth  of  July,  1777,  they  went  to  St.  Paul's 
church  and  were  married  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel  Ma- 
gaw.     Then  they  went  back  to  Water  Street,  and  lived 
there  until  September,  when  Lord  Howe,  fancying  he 
had  business  in  Philadelphia,  occupied  the  city,  and  so 
drove  many  of  the  inhabitants  away,  and  among  them 
the  young  Girards.     They  went  to  Mount  Holly,  jSTew 
Jersey,  where  they  bought  a  house  for  five   hundred 
dollars,  and  Stephen  again  carried  on  the  bottling  busi- 
ness, but  now  sold  his  wine  to  the  British.    In  1778  Lord 
Howe  left  the  city,  and  they  returned.     The  after  story 
of  this  marriage  was  certainly  very  miserable,  but  there 
seems  to  be  no  reason  for  the  tales  of  the  wife's  unhap- 
piness  from  Girard's   ill-treatment  of  her,  nor  of  his 
dissatisfaction  with  her  frivolity  and  ignorance.     In  her 
early  and  growing  insanity  there  was  misery  enough  to 
account  for  everything,  and  when  at  the  end  of  eight 
years  she  had  to  be  placed  in  the  Pennsylvania  Hospi- 
tal, his  brother  Jean,  who  had  had  every  opportunity  of 
knowing  Stephen's  domestic  affairs,  wrote  to  him  :  "  I 
have  just  received  your  letter  of  the  12th,  and  I  cannot 
express  how  I  felt  at  the  news.    I  truly  grieved  because 
of  the  terrible  state  you  must  be  in,  especially  because  I 
know  the  friendship  and  love  you  have  for  your  wife." 
He  then  goes  on  to  say  that  only  business  keeps  him 
from  going  at  once  to  console  his  brother,  but  adjured 
him  to  "  conquer  your  grief,  and  show  yourself  a  man, 
for  when  we  have  nothing  with  which  to  reproach  our- 


STEPHEN  OTRARD.  491 

selves,  nothing  should  crush  us."  This  letter  has  espe- 
cial value,  for  whatever  else  the  Girards  were  they  were 
not  hypocrites,  and  Jean  would  not  have  irritated  his 
-brother  by  any  eft'usive,  empty  condolence.  There  is 
every  proof  that  Girard  did  his  best  for  his  wife.  He 
had  her  under  medical  treatment  at  home,  he  sent  her 
to  the  country,  and  wanted  her  to  make  a  visit  to 
France,  but  this  was  given  up  ;  and  when  after  a  seven 
3-ears'  residence  in  the  hospital  she  seemed  better,  he 
took  her  home  again.  But  she  grew  worse,  and  there 
was  no  hope,  and  she  was  finally  placed  permanently  in 
the  hospital,  where  she  died  in  1815  ;  and  one  of  Girard's 
old  friends  says  that  as  they  stood  around  the  coffin  the 
tears  ran  down  the  husband's  cheeks,  and  he  was  neither 
callous  nor  indifferent  to  his  wife's  death,  nor  to  her 
memory.  The  first  bequest  in  the  will,  and  the  largest 
made  to  any  of  the  existing  corporations,  was  to  the 
hospital  in  which  she  had  been  cared  for.  She  is  remem- 
bered as  an  old  woman,  swarthy  and  dark-eyed,  sitting 
in  the  sun,  and  hardly  recognizing  the  old  housekeeper 
who  would  sometimes  take  Girard's  little  nieces,  Jean's 
daughters,  to  see  her. 

During  these  years  Girard  was  steadily  at  work.  He 
had  taken  the  oath  of  allegiance  in  1777,  and  seems  to 
have  lost  all  desire  to  go  to  sea.  He  once  made  a  trip 
to  Leghorn,  from  whence  he  brought  a  table  of  various 
colored  marbles  ;  but  he  lived  in  AVater  Street,  content 
and  Inisy.  His  ships  went  everywhere,  beginning  with 
one  small  vessel  which  sailed  to  the  West  Indies  and 


492  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

back,  carrying  cargoes  both  ways.  As  his  profits  en- 
abled him  to  do  so,  he  bought  other  vessels  and  projected 
long  voyages.  He  named  his  ships  after  French  philos- 
ophers, and  the  Montesqideu,  the  Voltaire  and  Boiissean 
were  known  in  many  ports.  He  would  send  a  cargo  to 
London,  and  there  the  ship  would  reload  for  another 
port,  and  so  go  on  and  on  until  it  had  sailed  half  around 
the  world.  He  gave  the  most  minute  directions,  and 
left  nothing  to  the  discretion  of  his  employes,  and 
nothing  reconciled  him  to  the  slightest  neglect  of  or 
change  in  his  orders.  He  once  sent  a  young  supercargo 
witli  two  ships  on  a  two  years'  voyage.  He  was  to  go 
first  to  London,  then  to  Amsterdam,  and  so  from  port 
to  port,  sehing  and  buying,  until  at  last  he  was  to  go  to 
Mocha,  buy  coffee  and  turn  back.  At  London,  how- 
ever, the  young  fellow  was  charged  by  the  Barings  not 
to  so  to  Mocha,  or  he  would  fall  into  the  hands  of 
pirates ;  at  Amsterdam  they  told  him  the  same  thing ; 
everywhere  the  caution  was  repeated  ;  but  he  sailed  on 
until  he  came  to  the  last  port  before  Mocha.  Here  he 
was  consigned  to  a  merchant  who  had  been  an  appren- 
tice to  Gii-ard  in  Philadelphia— for  this  happened  when 
Girard  was  an  old  and  rich  man— and  he  too  told  him 
he  must  not  dare  venture  near  the  Bed  Sea.  The  su- 
percargo was  now  in  a  dilemma.  On  one  side  was  his 
master's  order ;  on  the  other,  two  vessels,  a  valuable 
cargo,  a  large  amount  of  money.  The  merchant  knew 
Girard's  peculiarities  as  well  as  the  supercargo  did,  but 
bethought  the  rule  to  "break  owner;-',   not  orders," 


STEPHEN  OntARD.  495 

might  this  time  be  governed  by  discretion.  "You'll 
not  only  lose  all  you  have  made,"  he  said,  "but  you  '11 
never  go  home  to  justify  yourself."  The  young  man 
reflected.  After  all,  the  object  of  his  voyages  was  to 
get  coffee,  and  there  was  no  danger  in  going  to  Java,  so 
he  turned  his  prow,  and  away  he  sailed  to  the  Chinese- 
Seas,  He  bought  coftee  at  four  dollars  a  sack,  and  sold 
it  in  Amsterdam  at  a  most  enormous  advance,  and  then 
went  back  to  Philadelphia  in  good  order,  with  large 
profits,  sure  of  approval.  Soon  after  he  entered  the 
counting-room  Girard  came  in.  He  looked  at  the  young 
fellow  from  under  his  bushy  brows,  and  his  one  eye 
gleamed  with  resentment.  He  did  not  greet  him  nor 
welcome  him  nor  congratulate  him,  but,  shaking  his 
angry  hand,  cried:  "What  for  you  not  go  to  Mocha, 
sir  ?"  And  for  the  moment  the  supercargo  wished  he 
had  !  But  this  was  all  Girard  ever  said  on  the  subject. 
He  rarely  scolded  his  employes.  He  might  express  his 
opinion  by  cutting  down  a  salary,  and  when  a  man  did 
not  suit  him  he  dismissed  him.  He  had  no  patience 
with  incompetence,  no  time  to  educate  people  in 
business  habits.  Each  man  felt  he  was  watched  and 
weighed ;  and  as  long  as  he  did  his  best,  and  his  best 
suited,  he  was  treated  justly,  if  closely.  The  master 
exacted  honesty,  soberness,  punctuality,  and  allowed 
none  of  his  plans  to  be  thwarted  by  an}-  independence 
on  the  part  of  his  subordinates.  They  understood  that 
they  were  to  leave  business  in  the  office,  so  no  one  of 
them  gossippcd  to  his  friends  over  Girard's  affairs. 


496  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 

In  those  days  Philadelphia  was  the  commercial  port 
of  the  comitry.  Along  Water  and  Front  Streets  were 
shipping-offices ;  the  wharves  were  busy  with  vessels 
coming  and  going,  and  there  was  talk  of  China  and 
Japan,  of  the  Barbadoes,  of  wine  and  silks  from  France. 
The  odors  of  tea  and  coftee  hung  heavy  in  the  ware- 
houses, and  no  one  complained  because  the  Delaware 
was  shallow,  or  the  city  miles  up  the  river.  Girard 
had  found  one  of  the  best  places  in  the  world  in  which 
to  build  a  fortune.  Young  as  he  was  when  he  landed, 
he  had  both  experience  and  knowledge.  Back  in  his 
own  family  were  the  traditions  and  habits  of  fathers  and 
sons  who  had  been  sailors  and  traders,  and  Stephen 
was  born  with  instincts  that  never  failed  him.  He  knew 
where  to  sell  and  where  to  buy,  and  could  calculate 
what  would  be  the  market  prices  hundreds  of  miles 
away  and  a  year  ahead.  He  understood  possible 
dangers  and  provided  for  them,  and  his  busy  brain 
marshaled  the  world  to  do  him  service.  His  family, 
however,  had  no  faith  in  his  establishing  himself  in  a 
young  country  struggling  in  a  war  with  so  great  a 
power  as  England. 

In  1777  his  brother  Jean  wrote  to  him  from  Cape 
Francois,  that  in  every  letter  he  receives  from  their 
father,  he  asks  news  of  Stephen,  "with,  as  I  can  well 
imagine,  tears  in  his  eyes,"  says  the  writer,  and  im- 
plores Jean  to  join  him  in  persuading  Stephen  to  quit 
a  hazardous  traffic,  and  eitlier  go  to  the  Cape  and  with 
his  brother  there  establish  a  house,  or  else  accept  from 


1   T 
1  ^ 

4 

fj'  J 

1 

STEPHEN  GIRARD.  499 


his  father  the  command  of  a  ship.  Jean  does  urge  this 
very  strongly,  but,  in  conclusion,  shows  how  well  he 
knows  what  Stephen's  reply  will  be,  by  adding,  that  if 
his  brother  is  absolutely  resolved  to  stay  where  he  is, 
he  had  better  consign  some  vessels  to  him  at  once,  as  he 
is  in  a  position  to  have  them  promptly  dispatched, 
Stephen  possibly  sent  the  vessels,  but  he  had  faith  and 
saw  that  under  the  struggle  there  was  vigor  and  coming 
prosperity,  and  he  stayed  where  he  was. 

As  he  grew  richer,  the  Water  Street  house  became 
very  comfortable,  and  if  he  did  not  rebuild  he  must 
have  altered  it  thoroughly.  He  sent  to  the  Isle  of 
France  for  ebony,  out  of  which  he  had  his  parlor  furni- 
ture made  ;  he  imported  handsome  Turkey  carpets  ;  the 
French  windows  opened  to  the  floor ;  the  kitchen  was 
paved  with  marble  and  the  water  was  brought  in  by 
pipes.  In  the  store-room  everything  was  in  abundance  : 
sacks  of  coflee,  boxes  of  tea,  apples,  hams,  chocolate, 
West-India  preserves,  so  that  the  table  was  fully  fur- 
nished. Girard  himself  ate  no  meat  for  years,  but  it  was 
regularly  on  the  table,  which  was  set  with  much  solid 
silver.  There  was  always  company  staying  to  meals,  and 
when  distinguished  Frenchmen  were  in  the  city  nothing 
pleased  Girard  better  than  giving  them  a  fine  dinner— 
and  among  them  often  came  Joseph  Bonaparte.  The 
counting-room  was  under  the  same  roof,  and  after  the 
nieces  grew  up  and  lived  in  the  house,  the  young  clerks 
made  little  errands  to  the  parlor  when  they  knew 
the  master  was  out.     There  was  a  small  French  organ 


500  A  STL  VAI^  CITY. 

in  the  room,  which  they  would  wind  up,  and  have 
many  a  hurried  dance  when  tliey  were  supposed  to  be 
busy  over  their  books.  Tlie  nieces  had  to  be  on  the 
watch  to  secure  tlieir  girhsli  pleasures.  Their  uncle  was 
never  unkind,  but  he  saw  no  use  in  any  sort  of  amuse- 
ment. Everybody  in  the  house,  except  himself,  had  to  go 
to  chui'ch,  and  each  to  his  own.  Pie  provided  the  pews, 
and  the  family  was  expected  to  occupy  them ;  but  for 
parties  and  such  entertainments  he  had  only  contempt, 
At  ten  o'clock  the  house  was  closed,  and  every  one 
sent  to  bed.  But  every  one  did  not  go  to  bed,  and  more 
than  once  one  of  the  girls,  in  her  gala  dress,  slipped  softly 
down  the  stairs  and  out  the  door  to  a  cavalier,  who  took 
her  to  one  of  the  stately  parties  of  the  time  ;  and  then  at 
some  late  hour  there  was  the  waking  of  the  housekeeper, 
and  the  stealing  back  again.  There  was  no  lack  of  life 
in  the  house,  and  when  Girard  could  get  a  child  into  the 
circle,  even  as  a  visitor,  he  was  very  happy.  He  liked 
young  girls  and  children  and  canary  birds  Avell,  but 
best  of  all  he  liked  his  farm  down  in  "The  I^eck." 
Every  day,  in  his  yellow  gig,  Girard  drove  down  there, 
and  then  took  off  his  coat  and  went  to  work.  He 
hoed  and  he  pruned,  he  looked  after  his  fruit  and  his 
stock,  and  when  his  own  table  was  supplied  he  found 
it  easy  to  sell  at  a  good  profit  whatever  he  chose  to 
send  to  market,  and  so  not  only  took  his  relaxation  and 
exercise  on  his  farm  but  added  it  to  his  money-making 
ventures. 
In  the  midst  of  this  personal  prosperity,  and  just  as 


STEPHEN  GIRARD. 


501 


Philadelphia  was  fairly  recovering  from  the  unsettled 
conditions  that  followed  the  war,  the  yellow  fever  broke 
out  and  desolated  the  city.  Washington,  with  all  his 
officials,  moved  the  government  offices  to  Germantovvn  ; 
every  one  who  could  fled,  and,  flying,  carried  the  con- 
tagion into  the  country  places  near  Philadelphia.  Those 


MODEL   OF   THE    "  MONTESQFIEIT  "    IX    BALCONY    RAILING. 

who  stayed  lived  in  hourly  fear,  and  hurried  through 
the  streets  like  so  many  monks  of  La  Trappe  under 
vows  to  neither  touch  nur  speak  to  another  fellow-being. 
From  every  house  where  people  dwelt  came  the  odors 
of  burning  tobacco  or  tar,  or  some  similar  substances. 
Churches  were  closed,  the  books  in  the  Philadelphia 
Library  safely  locked  up  ;  there  was  no  brawling  at  tho 
taverns,  and  people  hardly  dared  to  even  meet  to  pray 


502  A  STLVAJi  CITY. 

together.     The  death-calls  echoed  through  the  silent, 
grass-grown  streets,  and  at  night  the  watcher  would 
hear  at  his  neighbor's  door  the  cry,  "Bring  out  jour 
dead  !"     And  the  dead  were  brought ;  unwept   over, 
unprayed  for,  they  were  Avrapped  in  the  sheet  in  which 
they  died,  and  were  hurried  into  a  box  and  thrown  into 
a  great  pit,  rich  and  poor  together.     This  was  in  1793, 
and  all  summer  the  plague  raged,  until,  when  Septem- 
ber came,  the  city  lay  under  the  blazing  sun  as  under  a 
great  curse.     Doctors  were  dead,   nurses  had  broken 
down  and  gone  away ;  there  were  no  visitors  of  the 
poor,  and  even  at  the  hospital  at  Bush  Hill  there  was 
no  one  to  receive  or  care  for  the  victims  who  were  car- 
ried there.    No  one  could  be  hired  to  go  there.    Why 
should  any  one  give  his  hfe  for  nothing  ?    A  meeting 
was  called,  and  a  few  men  came  together  and  appointed 
a  committee  to  devise  help  for  the  hospital.     Stephen 
Girard  was  on  this  committee.     He  had  not  only  stayed 
in  the  city  but  he  had  given  himself  up  to  nursing  and 
doctoring.    He  went  from  house  to  house  ;  he  was  never 
too  wearied  ;  he  was  never  disheartened  nor  disgusted. 
He  gave  money,  and  commissioned  others  to  give  it  for 
him,  "except,"  he  said  to  an  old  Quaker,  "?/oi(  shall 
not  give  to  Frenchmen,  because  you   like  them  not. 
You  shall  send  them  to  me  !"    It  was  only  a  step  farther 
for  him  to  volunteer  to  go  to  Bush  Hill  and  take  charge. 
And  he  did  so.     He  was  there  for  two  months.     He 
received  the  fever  patients  at  the  gate ;  sometimes  he 
went  after  them  ;  he  nursed  them  and  never  faltered  ; 


STEPHEN  GIBARD. 


503 


he  watched  until  they  breathed  their  last  breath,  and 
then,  wrapping  them  in  whatever  he  could  thid,  helped 
carry  them  out  and  put 
them  in  the  pit.  He  was 
then.  fort3-lhree  years 
old,  and  his  family  in 
France  were  terrified  at 
what  Jean  calls,  in  his 
English,  the  "riscks" 
he  was  running.  In 
1797  and  1798,  Girard 
repeated  this  experi- 
ence, and  again  nursed 
and  doctored  through 
those  summers  of  pesti- 
lence, and  lost,  he  wrote 
to  one  of  his  friends, 
but  one  patient,  an 
Irishman,  who  would 
drink  liquor. 

And  so  the  years  went  pierre  girard's  cross  of  rt.  louis. 
on,  and  the  Frenchman  prospered,  and  another  chance 
came  for  him  to  do  another  great  public  work.  In 
1811  Girard  had  a  million  of  dollars  to  his  account  in 
the  bank  of  tlie  Barings  Brothers.  He  ordered  the 
whole  of  this  spent  in  buying  the  stock  of  the  United 
States  Bank.  Tiiis  institution  had  come  to  the  limit 
of  its  charter,  and  the  stock  was  greatly  depreciated 
in  England.      Still,   Girard   bought  it,   and   waited   a 


504  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


Uttle.  The  charter  expired,  the  government  refused 
t(/  renew  it,  and  then  Girard  bought  the  whole  affair, 
the  building  (which  still  stands  on  Third  Street),  the 
paper  on  which  the  notes  were  printed,  the  stools  on 
which  the  clerks  sat ;  and  so  the  merchant  became  a 
banker,  and  in  a  moment  of  national  peril,  just  as  we 
were  on  the  eve  of  war,  saved  us  from  a  financial  crisis. 
It  was  also  one  of  those  splendid  business  achievements 
that  distinguished  Girard.  He  took  his  money  out  of 
danger  and  made  a  good  investment,  and  when  com- 
merce was  closing,  opened  a  new  business  under  capital 
conditions.  From  this  moment  he  was  the  steady  right 
hand  of  the  government.  He  believed  in  it,  and  was 
in  a  position  to  assert  his  belief.  In  1816  the  new 
United  States  Bank  was  established,  and  stock  offered 
at  seven  per  cent,  with  twenty  dollars  bonus.  The 
people  hesitated  ;  the}^  straggled  in,  and  at  last  took 
twenty  thousand  dollars'  worth.  They  were  not  sure 
about  government  investments.  Girard  waited  until 
the  last  day,  when  he  came  forward  and  took  all  the 
stock  —  three  million  one  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
This  was  his  stake,  his  "risck." 

Of  course,  both  parties  made  money.  The  govern- 
ment, backed  by  Girard 's  name,  tided  over  the  perils  in 
its  way,  and  Girard  had  the  benefit  of  its  success.  He 
not  only  knew  how  and  when  to  make  his  ventures,  but 
once  made  he  looked  after  them.  When  he  saw  fatal 
weakness  he  took  no  interest ;  yet  in  the  moment  of 
danger  no  one  knew  better  how  to  run  even  a  sinking 


STEPHEN  GIRARD.  505 

craft  on  shore — but  the  cargo  had  to  be  worth  the 
trouble. 

In  December,  1831,  Girard  died,  an  old  man  nearly 
eighty-two.  For  some  time  he  had  been  very  infirm, 
and  his  weakness  had  been  increased  by  having  been 
knocked  down  by  a  cart  oti  the  street,  and  having  his 
head  and  face  injured.  He  would  not  give  up  to  his 
injuries,  and  even  when  attacked  by  the  influenza  in- 
sisted on  his  old  practice  of  doctoring  himself,  until  it 
was  too  late.  The  day  he  died  he  got  out  of  bed  and 
walked  across  the  room  to  a  chair,  but  at  once  turned 
and  went  feebly  back  again.  He  jjut  his  old,  thin  hand 
on  his  head  and  said,  "How  violent  is  this  disorder!" 
and  died. 

There  was,  of  course,  instant  interest  in  his  will,  it 
being  generally  understood  that  he  had  left  his  millions 
for  public  uses.  Through  a  misappreheiision  on  the 
part  of  one  of  his  executors  in  regard  to  Girard's 
wishes  in  relation  to  his  burial  place,  tiie  will  had  to 
be  read  very  soon  after  his  death,  and  so  the  public 
was  soon  in  possession  of  the  facts.  The  people  whom 
he  liked  best  were  the  Quakers.  He  had  sympathy  with 
their  disdain  of  foi-ms,  their  shrewd  business  habits  and 
their  integrity.  In  his  own  dress  he  was  as  neat  and 
particular  as  they  were,  and  did  not  look  unlike  them. 
His  plain  coats  were  made  of  the  best  broadcloth  ;  his 
underwear,  of  silk,  was  imported  from  China.  He  kept 
a  pair  of  shoes  for  each  day  of  the  week,  and  his  nieces 
hemmed  his  square  linen  cravats  by  the  dozen.     The 


506  A  SYLVAN  CITY. 


portrait  we  give  of  him  is  from  the  statue  at  Girard 
College,  which  was  modeled  from  a  cast  taken  after 
death,  and  so  represents  him  as  an  old  man.  It 
was  executed  in  Italy  by  Gavelot,  at  an  expense  of 
130,000,  and  was  universally  pronounced  an  excellent 
likeness. 

The  time  will  come  when  Stephen  Girard  will  be  bet- 
ter understood  •,  and  even  while  he  remains  the  typical 
man  of  business— allowing  nothing  to  move  him  from 
his  purposes,  inflexible,  impetuous,  never  taking  back 
his  word  for  good  or  ill,  daring  yet  cautious,  having  a 
brain  that  governed  his  heart— he  will  also  have  credit 
for  his  sterling,  manly  virtues.  He  was  one  of  the  men 
to  whom  much  was  committed,  and  when  his  time  came 
to  give  it  up,  he  gave  it,  not  as  money  to  make  money, 
but  to  the  "  httle  ones"  with  widowed  mothers,  and  fo) 
the  benefit  of  the  city  of  his  adoption. 


[the  end.]| 


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